Motherhood
by prentiss-be-mine
Summary: She snaps her head in the former Mayor's direction, wild hair flowing behind her back, eyes watering as she mumbles "I'm pregnant." Regina didn't expect a crying Emma at her doorstep, and she definitely think of those two little words that could change her life and her very being. That'll change the both of their lives.
1. Chapter 1

**Thought of this plot bunny when I should be updating my other swan queen fic! Oh well, here ya go :) Starts a little dark, but it gets fluffier :) Three shot :)  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or their characters. **

They don't speak of their one night together six weeks ago. The night of curses, emotional blows, scratching, moving limbs, and sweat. The night a heavy argument- more like Ms. Swan's shouting and Regina taking it all in with masked indifference- of Emma telling Regina she ruined her childhood, or lack of, trails into the blonde hiking the former Mayor to a nearby wall, eyes glowing with anger and shame as she crashes their lips together.

It's easier for Regina to take back another glass of cider and lose herself in her study. It seems to be her last treasure of familiarity after the curse has been lifted. She's lost everything-her son, her happiness, her _tree_. It was nice to have something to survive after the battle.

She hasn't seen Ms. Swan since that night. Not like she wants to, anyway. The woman has ruined everything from her; the last thing she needs is a reminder of her defeat.

So it is surprising to hear harsh knocking on her door, shaking her out of her reverie. After Henry demanding the town to her let her live- as if this is living, she snorts- there hasn't been any vandalism or threats coming her way. There hasn't been much of anything.

Heading for the door, she takes a moment to ruffle her hair and smooth creases out of her crisp white button-up. It's all out of vanity, a silly desperation for a poise exterior, but old habits die hard and she doesn't plan on looking bad just because she feels it.

Opening the door, however, her mask loosens at the unfamiliar image before her.

Emma, blonde hair wild and frazzled, is leaning over the threshold, panting like she's ran a marathon. Her eyes make Regina's brow lift to her hairline- wide and red-rimmed, surveying the brunette's face with desperation that makes Regina self-conscious.

It must be horrible.

But then she remembers it's Emma.

"What do you want?" She asks, returning to her mayoral mask.

Then the blonde says, voice hoarse and needy, low and uncertain, "I need your help."

* * *

Even though she wants to slam the door in the blonde's face, she remembers that she has Henry and that could be the reason for her distress, so she lets her inside and leads her to the study. The bottle of Bourbon, not as used as her cider but still well worn these days, is presented on the desk and she clenches her jaw. Emma didn't need to know of her vices, but watching, _feeling, _the shaking from her peripheral, Regina can pride to say that she's way better off than the savior right now.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I thought I was just late," she rushes out, beginning to pace.

Regina narrows her eyes in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"I mean that's understandable, right? Stress can do that. I mean I just found out that my parents I've been looking for my whole life are fairytale characters, and I fought fucking ogres. _Ogres!" _She's pacing again, shaking her head, eyes dazed and delirious. Regina begins to intervene and ask what the hell the Sheriff is babbling about, but she stops before anything is heard. It seems that Emma has a lot of pent up...stress, and the only way to release it is in bits and pieces.

So Regina sits back, relaxing in her seat, watching the usual pain-in-the-ass blonde break before her. _Oh pity, Ms. Swan. _Yes, this is quite interesting.

"But two weeks passed, then three, and I just- _fuck _this is insane!"

Regina's amusement of Ms. Swan's distress is wearing thin, and impatience teeters in her voice. "Ms. Swan, what the hell are you rambling about?"

She snaps her head in the former Mayor's direction, wild hair flowing behind her back, eyes watering as she mumbles "I'm pregnant."

Her annoyance washes away as her mouth hangs and her brows rise, but that lasts for a moment, just a moment to let that news sink in before she recovers coolly, "I had no idea you were seeing anyone. Congratulations."

"I'm not seeing anyone, don't you get it!" She growls, fresh tears falling down her pink cheeks. "Between everyone fawning over me being a fucking savior, and Mary Marg_—_ Snow, my-my Mom keeps smothering me. And everything makes me cry it's disgusting and I..." A sob interrupts her monologue, and then another, until she's hunched over with her face in her hands, shaking.

Her overt vulnerability perplexes Regina. Of course giving her body's...condition it's all inundating hormones, but what confuses Regina is why Emma asks for _her. _As she says, the town is fawning over the girl like some Queen_—_ oh the irony, Regina inwardly groans_—_ so why can't she ball her eyes to someone else? Why go to the one person in town she loathes?

_I guess I'll find out soon. _

Emma finally pulls herself together and wipes her eyes in vain. They are still bloated a deep red, and her body still shakes, but, like Regina, Emma wants to shrug off her stress and stand tall.

It's ironic how much the Savior and the Evil Queen have in common.

"It's b-been a year. I haven't fucked a guy in a year! I've only..." her eyes rake over Regina's body in a pointed way that makes the brunette shiver. She hates it, utterly hates the things Emma could do_—_ _have _done to her body. But she bottles down that unwanted arousal when she watches the horror and sheer terror blossom in those green eyes. "No...no, that's impossible!"

Regina blinks, confused by the outburst that's even out of place for a pregnant woman, but remembers Emma's last words and puts two and two together. "Ms. Swan," she shakes her head in disbelief, appalled that she even has to say her thought out loud, "I am many things, but even someone with your level of schooling can grasp that I do not have the... means to produce your child. It's a biological absurdity."

"I went through twenty-eight years of my life being normal_—_ as normal as an orphan dashed on a highway after being transported from a fucking portal from the Enchanted Forest, that is_—_ and in a few months I find out that my mom is Snow White and my Dad is Prince fucking Charming, and the Evil fucking Queen adopted the son I had in prison, so excuse me if I don't know what makes sense anymore!"

Putting it that way it would seem quite strange, Regina muses with pursed lips. But still...there is logic and law and principles that cannot be broken even by the most whimsical things, and childbirth is one of them.

"Ms. Swan, I do not understand_—_"

"_Fix _this!" She hisses, charging to where Regina sat, dragging her up by the collar of her blouse.

Regina shrugs the hysterical woman off but remains standing, pompously fixing the creases of her shirt. "And what is it do you expect me to do?"

"I don't know," she throws her hand in the air. "You have magic, right? You can poof this way. Yeah, yeah, you can," she chuckles nervously, smiling with desperation and a hint of insanity that makes Regina take a step to the side. Emma's eyes follow her like a dependent puppy and the submission should have Regina chuckling, but it unravels her. If this is indeed...true, and this was indeed, somehow, her child, then Emma was asking her...

...well she couldn't be serious?

"Emma," she cautions, already shaking her head, "you are not asking me...if you even _think_ that I would... do what you're asking me_—_"

"You have to get this thing out of me!"

Her anger gets the best of her and for once she doesn't care. "I am not killing a child!"

"Anything that's created from an angry fuck against a wall by two women is _not _a child! It's a monster and I want it out!" Regina winces at the cruelty, even more so of the menace that rips from Emma's dry throat, but Regina stands tall, shaking her head with dismissal. It makes Emma angry, angrier than she has been this whole night, and she grabs Regina by the collar and drags her up a nearby wall_—_ much like the very night six weeks ago. It's funny how things repeat themselves; Regina groaning at the harsh thud, eyes fluttering as the blonde's body presses against her own.

"I did not ask for this! And you will _not _write out my life_—_ not again!"

Regina blinks away from the frantic gaze, letting the words rip through. It's true; she did map Emma's life, ripped out the financial and emotional security from it. But she won't say sorry, not necessarily because she doesn't feel remorse, but it's simply not needed. Emma could never forgive her for a stolen childhood, and that doesn't seem to be a pressing issue on her mind. Evidently they both have quite a...dilemma.

"I won't do it," she says almost softly, just thinking of the potential strength of this being. A product of the product of true love, and a woman with magic. Oh, the wonders this child could be.

Apparently Emma didn't hold the same optimism.

"You're a cruel bitch," she growls, truly _growls _like a wild animal. "I guess this is some kind of victory for you; forcing the savior, daughter of your sworn enemy, to carry your spawn. Or was that your plan all along?"

"If I can remember correctly, Miss Swan, it was _you _who initiated that night."

"And you didn't stop me."

"Well," she chuckles, letting her bravado show for a moment, instantly regretting it when Emma's hold on her tightens.

"I'm glad you find this fucking funny!"

"I somehow managed to get a woman pregnant. The whole predicament is quite humorous if you allow it."

"You wouldn't say that if you were carrying this thing."

"Stop calling it that!" Regina admonishes, frowning. There is a life, ignorant of the vices and bleakness of the world, inside of Emma and she hates that the savior speaks of it with such disdain.

Emma takes a moment to scan the former Mayor's body with pure disgust before she backs away, running her fingers through her hair.

"I've done many things but I won't murder a child. I won't have her blood on my hands." The pronoun slips with ease, a familiarity and comfort that smites her when Emma's brow lifts to her hairline. Damn her weakness, the yearning to carry and have a little girl. A small being that depends on her and blesses her with the wholesome sacredness of mother and child. She thinks of Henry then, how that relationship cracked and failed, and the pain strikes her numbing heart. She looks away but Emma's eyes follow her, a questionable gaze smoothing over the anger.

"_Her?" _

The reminder of her stupidity makes her shiver. She wraps her arms around her torso, as if she wants to hold the fantasy, the delusion, that she's carrying this child. A child she wants to keep.

"Do whatever you want to do," Regina says, voice devoid of emotion. "But I won't be responsible for this." It's Regina's turn to take in the blonde's features with disdain, to actually be ashamed for this child, _her _child, to have to be carried by a coward they call 'the Savior'. Oh what she'd give to switch places.

"Regina," It's the first time Emma's actually whispers since this whole night. The first time she's calm and soft, even though her eyes remain wary and confused. "We don't know what this is. This thi_—_" She stops there when Regina shoots Emma a glare only the Evil Queen could make, "this _baby_ could be a danger to everyone, and myself. We can end this right now, before anyone gets hurt."

"And this baby could also be a miracle," Regina truly frowns in audaciousness. She wonders how a woman who's carried a child before, who _loves _her child, could ever be so dissociative to another. It makes her ponder over the true essence of good, if those titles are all shields to hide the ugliness Regina's not afraid to hide. Perhaps everyone is "The Evil Queen"; it just depends on the predicament for their cracked interior to reveal itself. "You are the product of true love, and I have magic inside of me absorbed from the well. This child was _created _out of magic. The possibilities are endless, Emma, and you want me to destroy it?"

Her voice is almost a plea, a dying shred of hope for Emma to see the beauty of this wonderful opportunity and not destroy her last chance at happiness. "This child is absolutely spectacular, I can...I can almost feel it." She's smiling now, eying the blonde's stomach. And maybe it's psychological, but she could almost feel the majestic thud of a life growing there. It's the potent spirit that pulses through her veins when she elicits magic. Something truly indescribable yet vivid with clarity.

Emma can't null that.

"This...this is different," Emma mumbles, almost reluctantly as she rubs her non-existent stomach. "Henry, I felt him but this...this feels like a part of me. Like we share the same heartbeat, feel the same emotions. An unity that surpasses what a mother and child should feel. It's...terrifying. I just...I don't know."

Regina's eyes begin to water as she hears the _but, _the inevitable horrible news she can't bear to hear. She makes a beeline for the door, refusing to have Emma tear down the last shred of hope for..._something. _But Emma's voice stills her, makes her whip her head in her direction, when the blonde says "But maybe... You think this kid could like cure cancer, or something?"

The former Mayor laughs, tears sliding down her cheeks but she's too happy to wipe them away. Emma's small smile, nervous and uncertain yet kind and hopeful, gives her the impression that perhaps the blonde's changed her mind. That she, too, can see the wonders of those bundle of cells growing inside of her.

"The possibilities are endless."

Emma's smile falters, and then her mouth twitches with unease. "How do we take care of it? I mean when the town finds out how it's yours, ours_—_"

"I will guard this child with my life and if I even _suspect _that someone conspires with her safety, I will pierce their head with my heel." The growl truly surprises her, the rage that bubbles in her that seems so innate. She almost feels like the Evil Queen, marching up to the blonde with wild, determined eyes, hissing out threats that will become promises when needed be. But now the fear of her victim and power doesn't course through her; it's her maternal love for a child she's never seen. For something she didn't know she needs until a few moments ago.

It's spectacular what this child has her feeling.

"You called the baby _her _again," Emma grins almost shyly, blinking back a few tears.

Regina isn't ashamed or embarrassed this time. She merely shrugs, chin held high as she responds with distinction, "I can feel it, and no one will hurt her, Emma."

The blonde sways uneasily, hands never leaving her stomach as she looks everywhere but the brunette's eyes. She must look terrifying, Regina muses, but just the sheer thought of any threat to her unborn child brings a rage out of her that she can't simply simmer.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Regina echoes with pure hope and excitement, forgetting her moment of maternal protection.

"I...I think I want her, but...it's just a lot to take in."

"I understand," she nods, practically squirming on her toes.

"I'm...we're having a baby," Emma laughs with unease and maybe a little bit of relief as she rubs her stomach. That urges Regina to do the same, to feel_—_ no she already feels, but to _measure _the power beneath the soon-to-be protruded skin and flesh_—_ but she refrains with an inward sigh. There will be a time for that, to gush over this child with the euphoria bubbling in her. But not now, when the carrier is still hesitant and slightly unwelcome by her presence.

She'll have her time.

"Indeed. Pack up your things, Ms. Swan, because you're going to be living with me."

"Wha-" Emma chuckles, watching the brunette pad out of the study with her footsteps not far behind. "I know you knocked me up, Regina, and we slept together but don't you think we're moving a little too_—_"

"Oh please, this is not for _us,_" Regina sniffs in disgust as she pivots on her heel, the blonde nearly slamming into her. "This is for the baby. I will _not _have her stay in that cottage you call an apartment, and knowing your flagrant disregard for the grease that meets your arteries, I want to make sure your diet is suitable for a child. You will stay in a guest room while I take care of all of the dietary and medical preparations."

"But I_—_"

"It's not a request, Ms. Swan."

She'd be damn if she lets her baby girl anywhere near those damn Charmings, even if the fetus is unable to respond to their hatred for her.

Her confidence returns in her stride to her bedroom and she can't help but smirk when she hears the Sheriff grumble "Bossy."

* * *

**First of a three shot? So...should I continue? :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow I'm lost for...wow. I've never gotten such a large response for ONE chapter! Jesus Christmas, Swan queeners, I love you guys! Also, it's an ungodly hour and I'll fix the errors at a less ungodly hour.  
**

Emma somehow persuades Regina to stay at home until she reveals the news to her parents. She could practically hear the rebuttals and the 'Over my dead body' but for once, for once out of this whole fanatic experience, Emma is the logical one while Regina is hot with expletives. She explains that the Charmings would grow suspicious of her absence and will have a search party in seconds if they even thought harm was being brought to her. Regina, to her dismay, relents, but doesn't forget to mention that Emma is carrying _her _child, and a few other threats that are pretty empty considering she can't hurt the carrier even if she wants to.

That was three weeks ago.

She doesn't consider herself 'showing' but she can feel the change in her body. Her hips don't cooperate with most of her jeans, and the simplest of activities tire her. And if she squints just enough, turning on a profile, she could see the concavity forming in her abdomen.

"Emma!" She hears her mother call from the other room and Emma panics for the closet, eyes wide as she rummages through fabric too tight for her to wear or uncomfortable to wear. She promises Regina a few days ago that today will be the day to tell her family, but as the situation presents itself, she can't help how she refrains into a corner and _la la la _this issue like she's done everything else in her life.

She barely accepts this burden— and yes she could call it what it is in Regina's absence, a _burden_— she doesn't imagine how her parents, how _anyone _in Storybrooke will understand.

"Emma, honey, me and James were gonna head out to Granny's and we were wondering...oh there you are" her voice lowers and steadies when the brunette is in the room.

Emma nearly smells Snow's scent at the entrance of her room, but that would be ridiculous. It must be this weird magic thing fucking up her equilibrium, she thinks.

"Hey mom," the Sheriff puts on a cheery voice, her back facing the brunette.

Crouched to the floor, Emma looks for a large shirt, praying that the protrusion doesn't show in her sides. Snow can't find out this way; it wouldn't be right to have another moment of motherhood stolen from her. Not like a mother would be exactly thrilled about her situation, the blonde's sure, but at least it would be up to Snow for her reaction to such events.

Emma sighs a sense of relief when she notices a larger black t-shirt she stole from a while back. She throws it on as she stands, and faces the welcoming ex-schoolteacher when the fabric is loosely over her stomach.

A flash of concern surfaces in Snow's eyes and the baby picks that time to present itself; making Emma hunch over, tossing whatever breakfast she has out of her system, all over the bedroom floor without any warning.

"Emma!" Her mother is behind in her seconds, holding back her hair, peeling the unlucky strand that sticks to the side of her wet mouth as she rubs her back.

Just when she thinks she could politely shrug off her mother's unsettling protection and apologize for the mess, another wave of nausea hits her and she returns with her head to her chest and lets nature take its course.

_Right...nature, _Emma thinks with a groan.

"Must be something I ate," Emma mumbles, voice hoarse from the throat activity, as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, groaning at the fowl taste that lingers in her mouth.

Snow remains silent and continues to rub her daughter's back. There's something...off about Emma, that she can't explain but just feels. At first she casts if off as the realization of her true identity and the pressures of being a savior, but it's more of intuition that makes her think otherwise. With any other person- the fatigue, dark backs under eyes, and abrupt vomiting- she'd quickly conclude that they are pregnant. But this is Emma, and they haven't been in Storybrooke long enough for the blonde to be...seeing anyone.

The brunette shivers at that; yes, things have changed. They've laughed over silly one-night stands as roommates— all of that a distant memory now— but now the thought makes her frown. Surely Emma would tell her...right? This is something a mother and daughter talk about...right? But Snow shakes that thought way, coaching the curled woman in front of her.

"Emma this is the second time you threw up this week."

The blonde flinches at that, as if those words shard her like glass when they really are a soft caress of concern. But still... Emma didn't think Snow noticed her morning sickness. "It's probably the flu," she finally looks up at the brunette, trying not to wince at the overt concern that shines in her blue-green eyes. It's still new to share a bond with someone out of care and love, and not interdependence or convenience. Shadiness she could decipher with a simple shake of the head, but love— powerful, potent, and impulsive— is unfamiliar to her since it was barely given. Her heart says that Mary Margaret's tenderness is genuine, but the structured cynicism of her brain is alarmed by it. Hopefully this reflex incredulity goes away because she needs her mother now more than ever.

Snow nods her head, eying the colorless liquid splattered on the floor. Emma does the same, sniffing at the sour stench— shivers at the reasons behind the rest of the mess. How did Regina expect her to explain to her mother about this thing growing in her when she cannot look at her without tossing up her lunch? Her symptoms are already sparking suspicion and it'll only grow into worry when they prolong. She has to tell soon.

But not now.

* * *

"I couldn't tell her," Emma dejects, slouching in the sofa of Regina's study.

"Why the hell not?" Regina barks.

"It's kinda hard to say 'Hey I'm pregnant' to your mom, but a "Hey I'm pregnant and it's the spawn of two women who have magic- one of them being someone you hate'? Not exactly a walk in the park."

Regina huffs, but purses her lips in acquiesce. Figures Ms. Swan couldn't stand up to her mother now that she knows of their relationship. Telling Snow about her child, a child with Regina, would devastate the ex schoolteacher, and while that should bring a smile to her face, the aftermath of that anger and disappointment could do harm for the baby. And if she wants to keep her safe, Regina needs the Charmings' approval even if the thought sounds worse than getting skinned alive.

"Just reason with them. They'll come around. They have no choice."

The blonde tilts her head at that, green eyes peering through the ex Mayor's. It's obvious she has something to say, but the Sheriff just _stares, _and stares some more.

"What?" Regina growls, impatient and a little self-conscious at the unwavering gaze that smoothly becomes a glare.

"Why is that?"

That's it? All of that contemplative thinking and staring just to say _that? _

"Ms. Swan I have no time for your games—"

"Funny, because you're really good at playing them."

Emma's now bone stiff in her seat, nearly regal with her posture, while Regina sits down, unmoved by the taunt. Her anger is expected to be irrational, she's pregnant after all, but this hatred is bottled and structured— hardly anything new. It's understandable and Regina doesn't let it bother her, but she's confused on why it's being lashed out _now. _What did she do?

"What are you talking about?"

"Why do you want this kid so bad? What's in it for you?" The incredulous tone matches her expression, and it puts Regina on guard— shoulders squared, jaw tightened.

"What are you implying, Ms. Swan? Why would you ask me that_— _why does _anyone _want a child?"

"Ya see a normal person who wasn't a Queen would say to love and cherish a small being. But you, well," she takes a moment to chuckle, "can't blame me for thinking it's for what? A tool to take down my parents?"

Regina laughs, long and cold and without any humor as it ends with a sneer. "I see that Charming arrogance is hereditary. The world doesn't revolve around you or your family, dear."

"But yours does," Emma fires back, a scowl forming her hard features. "You've spent your whole adult life trying to destroy my mother and this thing could do it if I let your sink your claws in it."

"How _dare _you," Regina's voice is unrecognizable, at least to Emma. It's low and threatening and theatrical; the Evil Queen Emma read in stories as a child. It's so easy, it would be so easy, to slip back into that shell that makes her feel alive and powerful. To assert her title in the way the town is waiting for. "How dare you mention something miraculous and beautiful to a self-righteous, spoiled-rotten," she's standing up without realizing, eyes burning the quiet blonde with a leer that melts ice, "little tramp that got everything she didn't deserve."

"Watch your mouth," Emma warns as she stands, but her voice waivers, slightly, just enough for Regina to detect the fear. The reminder that she is a modern girl with magic she cannot control, in front of a Queen that can reduce her to ashes with a flick of the wrist and take pleasure in her misery.

"Oh," Regina takes in pride in the moment of weakness, moving closer until her breath dances along Emma's mouth, "they didn't tell you that in Henry's book? Or the Disney-corporated movies?" She revels in this victory, the clench of Emma's jaw, the fear that flashes through her eyes like a storm before it settles on feigned defiance. "How your mother killed my fiancee—"

"Snow wouldn't do that."

Regina falters for a moment—one quick, solid moment— because she feels Emma here. She knows what it's like to want to believe that her mother is a wholesome, loving being who could do no harm to anyone or herself. That's the abandonment issue they both share but never acknowledge. But again, this isn't about commodity. This is about Emma having the gall to question the love— and that's what it is, she softly muses— for her unborn child.

"Snow White was a selfish little girl who wanted a mother, so she sacrificed my happiness to have that."

"And how's that?"

"Being forced to marry the King. Being nothing more than a labeled nanny and a service whore." She grunts in dismissal, pretending to ignore the shock in green eyes, the expectation to elaborate in morbid curiosity. But no, she won't give Snow's daughter that victory.

"So I tell you this Emma Swan— or is it Charming now?" She taunts bitterly, surveying those high cheeks jumping at her words. "Unlike your mother, I don't hide my wrongdoings through self-righteous deeds of 'chivalry' and 'altruism'. I know who I am, and won't pretend for no one. Not anymore."

"That's rich, Your Majesty," Emma sneers, "considering that's exactly what you're doing."

Regina lets the curiosity gnaw at her, brown brow rising for elaboration. And Emma knows it, gloats in it with a small grin and malicious eyes.

And then it happens.

Emma hunches over, clutching on the ex Mayor's shoulder while the other wraps around her abdomen.

The screaming is what pulls Regina out of her reverie. Emma's voice strangles in the air, muffling in the brunette's neck as her nails dig further, perhaps tearing skin.

Regina only winces for a moment, too focused on the urgency of Emma's apparent injury to care about her own and wraps a sturdy arm around the shivering waist, hoisting her up.

"Emma?" Regina alarms, eyes widening as she tries to assist and analyze the scene.

The blonde only responds with another sob, writhing, clawing desperately, it seems, to leave the cocoon of Regina's embrace.

She finally speaks, voice strained with desperation and sheer agony that makes Regina's stomach churn, "Please 'Gina stop, I'm sorry— just please, oh god— make it stop!"

"I'm not doing anything!" The brunette's words distract her, and Emma flies from her support, taking a few steps back as she wraps both arms around her own torso, shaking her head.

It's then when Regina closes in on the figure before her and sees that her eyes are clenched shut, mouth twisted in tenacious pain. Is she sleeping? Seeing something? The ex Mayor has no idea, but her maternal instincts take over and she's right before Emma again, taking her by the shoulders.

"Emma."

Her head hangs over, blonde hair limply curtaining her pink face as it collides with Regina's shoulder.

"Emma, talk to me!"

The figure shivers, but Regina's shaking her with a vigor that seeps through her own bones, tight from anxiety and uncertainty.

"_Look _at me."

Tendrils of magic tickle at the brunette's fingertips, sparking with a pulse that distracts her from Emma's crisis. It doesn't hurt. No, it's quite the opposite. The temptation is strong to embrace the sparks of purple fizzing up her arms, to welcome the familiarity fog, but she shakes it off with teetering determination.

_You promised Henry. Even if he doesn't love you, you promised. You owe him that much. _

Hardening her eyes she pushes the heaving blonde— who no longer yells but whimpers with her eyes clenched shut— up the wall beside the sofa. The toss is harder than she means it to, fueled with adrenaline, and Emma's back bounces off the wall with an impact that snaps her eyes open.

Regina doesn't see scared green gawking at her like she expects. No, it's a wild purple, brilliantly swallowing her pupils, flickering in different shades as Emma stares at the former mayor with an unfocused gaze.

Emma doesn't seem hurt any longer, but Regina is the one so alarmed that it borders to pain. The blonde is captivated by magic? Her magic? _Emma's? _The baby's? Without a definite answer all she could do is stare, transfixed with an open mouth, praying that it'll be over soon.

The hue continues to flow within Emma's eyes, circling around like a looming cloud, until it stops. The color remains, changing from a deep purple to a sparkling pink.

The blonde's blinking now, as if she's trying to escape the hell she's in, trying to leave the subconscious this mysterious magic put her under. Colors flicker through the Sheriff's eyes like an old movie, a new color blooming every time they open. Pink to red, red to blue. Back to red, now yellow.

For something so terrifying— and _god_ yes it's terrifying— Regina couldn't stop the wonder blossoming her own eyes, wide with fear and excitement. The blonde isn't hurt, or so it seems anymore, so it lifts her conscience when she's there practically jumping on her toes in anticipation for what's to come.

Eventually the light show is over and Emma's original color spills into her eyes. It's not a graceful process, not like the multitude of colors that fluidly came and went, but it had the movement of ink spilling on a canvas.

Now a full hue of forest green, Emma heaves a huge gasp, shuddering its exhale.

"Emma?" She asks almost cautiously, as if she doesn't expect to see the Savior with her. And in a way she's right; she's never seen green eyes hold that overt fear, to have it raw and naked without the irritation of the blonde's 'charm'. She's terrified and shaking as she begs— _begs _Regina to never take her back, that they won't have to speak of it but just to never bring her there again.

It has Regina tearing up, blinking back an unnamed emotion that teeters in the back of her throat. But she shakes that off, trying for once to not think of herself but the life that's growing in the woman before her.

"Emma, my dear," she says in a voice strangled with sadness and confusion, "I didn't do that."

"Regina I—I just... don't," she still trembles though traces of a recognizable Emma comes alive. "Don't do that again."

"Ms. Swan." Regina is trying her hardest to be redeemable, to be the parent that Henry and her unborn child wouldn't loathe, but _damn _it she hates their incredulity. Their indifference in her struggle to sobriety, to rise over the seduction of magic and the core being of evil that still swells inside of her— lurking, smirking, just waiting for the right moment to pounce at her enemy/soon-to-be victim. That's why her voice edges with frustration, growing weary of the 'damned if you do, damned if you don't' attitude even if well deserved. She doesn't want forgiveness of her past; just a chance to make it up to her son.

_And your daughter, _she thinks with a timbre voice.

It's funny how she has finality in her thought— relying purely on instant rather than biological facts and stability. There is nothing factual about this conception, she thinks with almost a wry smile.

"I didn't send you to the place you were sent. I..." she twists her mouth in contemplation, and finally relents with a sigh. "I took a vow. I told you I'll protect my child— _our _child from _any _form of peril. I would be putting dishonor on that promise if I did such thing."

Emma's eyes roam the trace the former Mayor's features in a way that makes her uncomfortable. But she knows what she's doing, and she'll let the blonde read her like an open book so she could see that she's not lying.

And a long, unwavering, few seconds later, Emma stiffens her jaw— nearly infuriated at her exposed fears; yes Ms. Swan is back, Regina muses— and nods in confirmation.

"The baby."

"What did you see?"

Emma flinches like a blow to the face, and Regina does wonder if she's responsible for this. If the magic tickling her skin is the product of Emma's pain. It could be possible, anything in this world can be, but something in her gut says she's not. That this magical child has something to do with this and it's anything about serendipitous.

"Fire," she squints her eyes, looking intently at nothing in particular as she eases away from the wall Regina unconsciously pins her to. "It was everywhere and..." Her faces draws in concentration, silence so thick it almost makes Regina hiss, "What?"

"It's hard to remember...like a dream." The Sheriff shakes her head, taking a deep breath as if to focus on the fading image in her mind.

Regina heaves a sigh, softening her voice, "Just try."

Emma falls silent again, but her eyes shift, recalling memories until they widen up at the ex Mayor with fear. "Whale."

The brunette tilts her head. "A whale?"

"No, _Whale, _as in _Doctor _Whale." Emma paces a few squares of the large study, talking dramatically with her hands as she continues, "and he had a torch in his hand with the rest of the town. There was fire everywhere, all around your porch. They were trying to...they were trying..." For some reason she falters and the next event clearly bothers her.

Instead of prompting the girl with a disgruntled sound of annoyance, Regina walks to the quiet blonde and places a supporting hand on her bicep.

It's clear Emma is confused and a little alarmed by the gesture that could come off as intimate, but that lasts a moment before she sighs, too consumed in the vivacity of her story. "They were clawing at my stomach f-for —"

"The baby," Regina doesn't even notice Emma nodding, her eyes misting in beginning panic. "How did they find out?"

"I don't know..." Emma's face scrunches in inquisition as she tries to grasp on events that fade from her mind.

Regina's mind begins to toss and turn theories that rarely make sense— causing more panic in her rising heart beat. This isn't the former Queen; she doesn't operate on fear. Only love and hate and vengeance stem from her acts of terror, but that's not the case here. She can't hate a woman carrying something so beautiful, and there's nothing to avenge for. All that's left is a pure, nearly palpable, need to protect what's hers.

And in this case, they need to run.

"Emma, we have to go."

"Wha—"

"We have to leave!" The longer she stays there, thinking of Emma's vision and the vengeful townspeople, the more logical her idea becomes. She's already retreating out of the study, climbing up the stairs with Emma on her tail.

"Regina, what are—"

"No questions—"

"Yes, _questions!_" Emma finally gets a grip of the brunette's bicep, and spins her around with a strength that makes Regina stagger with a gasp. "Now tell me what the hell is going on."

"I don't know." And she's honest about that. She doesn't know what she's doing, doesn't have a definite plan for safety, but she knows for sure that it isn't here with sadistic fairytale characters who would take joy in killing something for 'the greater good'. "Emma these people may be in your world, but they still think and act like they are in mine. They will kill you, the Savior, to get rid of this baby. They hide behind their barbaric nature with kind words but everyone there— _here, _is exactly the same. Murder is not an issue."

The blonde shivers as her arms reflexively wrap around her torso as if the thought of tears and blood and excruciating pain welcome her mind.

"Look, I don't know what you saw. Maybe it's a vision...or a warning of some sort."

"You think the baby is psychic?" Even after being in the Enchanted Forest, fighting ogres, finding and discovering the works of magic, Emma's instinct is to be skeptical. Her tone laces with it, as if this is some idiotic joke for a light laugh.

It makes Regina frown at her stupidity. The arrogance and incredulity in this world are things Regina always abhorred about it.

"It is possible, yes. There's been talk in my world for people making spells for women who couldn't bore a child, but I've never heard of it being blossomed involuntarily. But what I do know is that you can't ever run from fate, and fate is telling you— _us— _to have this child."

"And who's writing my fate this time?" Emma seethes, clenching her jaw.

Again, Regina ignores the jab because they have other issues to cover— other issues to even brainstorm to be caught in foolish riffs.

"That's something we have to find out."

* * *

**Hmm perhaps a four shot? And yes, we'll know more about Emma's 'vision' next chapter. Also, there is a reason why Regina is choosing to run rather than blowing the whole town to flames. :) But anyway, please leave me a review. They feed my muse and make me happy and I gush in feels. So...yes, please let me know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry this one took a little longer, folks. College is a serious ass-kicker. So as a token for my apology, I give you this! I think this is about 9,000 words- closer to ten? Yeah, shit got real! Enjoy!  
**

Had the situation been lighter, Emma would've taken pleasure in Regina's discomfort in her car. She would've chuckled bitterly at tanned fingers clenching tightly around the steering wall- probably would've compared her to having the 'all bark and no bite' complex of a Chihuahua.

But this isn't a light topic; this isn't something they can forget over a few drinks, oh what she'd give to swig a few bottles back to make this nightmare disappear.

Oh what she'd give to make _everything _about Storybrooke disappear.

She can't even focus on the brunette's fear when her own creeps up her spine, ghosting its presence with a satisfied smirk. She can still feel the fire on her skin, the smoke hugging her throat, the town with uniformed expressions of grimness and determination.

Then she also remembers Regina in front of her, crouched like a tiger, ready to protect what's hers.

And Snow. Her mother along sides with her sworn enemy- the woman who makes a vow to destroy her happiness if it's the last thing she could do.

All to protect her.

The thought makes her shiver.

As the drive to her apartment remains silent, Emma can't help but frown in consternation. Now that she's not writhing in pain, or smothered by her mother and even Regina, the vision- or whatever that crap was- comes to her with more ease.

She chooses to ignore the heat the fire hogs in the air to look at the bigger picture.

Or smaller picture, depending how you look at it.

Yes Regina is angry, hissing at the looming crowd with pitchforks and torches. But her hand trembles on Emma's abdomen, and the other clenches and unclenches tight fists. It's almost as if she's...listening.

Emma didn't remember words in the vision.

But Regina seems bone stiff, fighting her own internal battle.

With what?

"Why?" It's the rasp of her voice, the scratch it gives her throat, that makes her realize she's said her thought out loud.

She didn't want to speak, it seems easier to be in Regina's proximity if they're silent, but there she goes uttering words without realization. It almost seems involuntary and she then remembers that's a strong theory with this thing inside of her.

"What?" Emma glances up to find dark brown peering almost imploringly and she can't help but scurry her own gaze to the passenger window.

She's used to Snow's affection- well not really _used _to but expects it because it's her mother- but from Regina it alarms her, angers her even.

The blonde is comfortable with the brunette's stoicism. It has no layers- just a blank slate of disinterest- and no complication of its meaning. It is a pure, general dislike for the Sheriff's presence and the feeling is mutual.

They are adversaries; light and day, oil and water.

That's what they _were. _

Now Regina's eyes are overtly wide and expressive, only looking away briefly to glance at the road but they are back on the blonde in seconds, as if it pains her to tear away even if it's just for a few moments.

Emma only offers an one-sided shrug and mumbles a "Nothing, never mind," as she clasps her hands in her lap.

"You're lying, something's wrong and you're going to tell me!"

She did feel like a child telling a huge lie with a diminutive mind that cannot fathom the issue it causes. It feels wrong, holding something Regina can't see. Something that Regina _wants _to see, for whatever reason.

So she sighs, running a hand through her hair as she puffs out her cheeks.

"I saw more of the vision...nightmare, whatever the hell you want to call it."

As if Regina's attention couldn't get any more undivided, the brunette pulls over and waits. Her eyes are wide, almost like a puppy; it brings Emma back to concluding Regina is a Chihuahua after all, she thinks with an inward snort.

But now there is no time for jokes- no time for friendly, and sometimes unfriendly, banter.

She has to focus or the dream might fade like it did last time.

"Remember when I said that Whale tried to attack...me?" How sad of Emma to rather think that a man wants to attack her than admitting she has a baby- a baby that evidently isn't wanted by the town as well.

Regina seemingly catches the choice of words, but she only responds with a curt nod and a clenched jaw.

"Well... you were in front of me and you were so close to him that you could've ripped his heart out." It surprises Emma that _she _is the one to say her words with ease while Regina is the one who flinches. "I don't understand why you wouldn't if you could..."

"Perhaps I am unable to. Magic here is unpredictable," Regina says too quickly, clearly still uncomfortable of Emma's nonchalance of her signature choice of murder.

Or is it something else?

Emma roams the consternation in the ex-Mayor's features; watches her mask slowly return to its usual passivity.

It's definitely something else if she needs to hide.

"No, it wasn't that," Emma responds, pretending not to notice the brunette's discomfort. "You had one hand on my stomach and I saw — _felt _the magic there. It's like a part of you wanted it out but the rest...tried to keep it at bay. Why?"

She doesn't even know _why _she's asking this question. Why she cares if Regina doesn't try her hardest to protect her. She's always been independent anyway, so it'll be best if they get rid of the thing that binds them and move on as Evil Queen and Savior.

But it bothers her, an unsettling churn in her stomach that has nothing to do with the life there. Or maybe it does. Maybe it's her own way of maternal protection- not as possessive and, well, volatile as Regina's but protection all the same.

But she doesn't _want _to protect this child. She doesn't want to _feel _anything but disgust and resentment for a product that blossomed without her consent. Yet her veins pulse in demand, a hum that stirs within her to clasp on to the majestic thug resting inside of her.

Maybe this is what Regina keeps blabbering about. About _feeling _magic.

"I...haven't used magic in quite a while," Regina confesses in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

Emma knows this is a serious topic. She knows Regina is about to reveal something she keeps perfectly hidden from the world, but she can't help but snort with an arched brow as she grins at the brunette's frown.

"_Really? _Magic free?" She makes a pointed glance to her stomach and the brunette grumbles in acknowledgment.

"Okay I haven't _willingly _used magic in a while," she corrects with a growl, but the rolling of eyes didn't seem sharp or domineering. It is slow and reluctant, almost playful if you could correlate Regina Mills with such a word.

It makes Emma smirk.

"Anyway," she's back to her derisive tone, brown eyes settling on the rear view window.

Emma feels the shift; any sort of amusement is gone now.

"It was my root to everything. It gave me power and respect..." She shakes her head, losing herself in thought as she mumbles mostly to herself, "God it could be so easy...so so easy."

Emma swallows a lump in her throat, listening to the former Queen's voice deepen as her eyes settle on her hand. Swirls of lavender caress her fingers, rising to little blue flames at each tip.

She should be nervous, watching an once-Evil Queen literally play with fire, but the blonde has a knack for finding trouble attractive. That's why she eyes the magic trick with an impressive grin.

But it fades when she truly roams the consternation radiating from the brunette. Among the concentration to keep the flames alive, Emma sees the exhilaration and disgust trying to peek through.

It brings her back to that moment they shared against the wall, brown eyes shining in deep-seated hatred and lust while the blonde channels her own self-loathing for the woman physically.

And that's what she sees now: shameful lust.

"I get it," Emma mumbles awkwardly, becoming a bit uncomfortable at the fire now flaring an angry orange.

Closing her fist the fire seizes in the air like a blown candle, with only the musky scent of magic and smoke in its absence. "And what exactly do you get, Ms. Swan?"

Emma doesn't like how low and distant Regina's voice gets— perhaps she's gotten use to the spilling emotion of their shared child that she forgets this his how the Mayor used to converse with her— but she shrugs off the shiver with a non-committed bounce of the shoulders.

"The magic thing. Well obviously not _that, _but the needing something to make you feel safe and strong? I get it. Magic's your crutch, like a drug or alcohol," she offers with a lazy wave in the air.

Regina purses her lips. "I suppose I can see the similarities."

"That doesn't mean you can't get better," Emma blurts out, eyes wide. Of course Regina would be offended that Emma compares her to the low-life junkies and alcoholics she collars during her bounty-hunter days or darker times in general. She's a former Queen, after all. "I mean, there's no A.A for magic addicts, but you know it's the cause of most of your problems, and you can work from there."

"The damage is already done, dear. I lost my fiancee and my son. The only things I want in this world are currently unattainable."

"You didn't...Henry's just— " Emma stops herself when Regina's eyes snap in her direction, threatening and warning, yet narrowed and daring, as if she wants the retaliation, the excuse to curb Emma's mistake with violence.

Emma may be many things but as of now she isn't suicidal. She'll shut up now, even if she disagrees.

Regina nods in gratitude and returns her attention to the window. "I made this town without magic for a reason. I figured I didn't have to think of it if it wasn't attainable. So I could have my happy ending and my son. Well, we know how that ended up," she chuckles deeply, a low and nearly delirious sound as she shakes her head.

"It's not too late," Emma says without a thought, almost regretting it when the brunette eyes her with stupidity and confusion.

The Sheriff looks away self-consciously, as if she's a student spilling the wrong answer in front of the whole class. Somehow her gaze settles on her stomach, slightly visible while sitting and her thought. She even smiles a little as her hand, almost on its own accord, caresses the flesh above her navel.

"I mean you talk about fate, and how you can't run from it and stuff. Maybe this kid...it's not the happy ending you were expecting but... it's something." Her voice is trailing into the air, her thoughts captivating as she lets her words sink in.

It's one thing to give advice, but to take it— and not only that, but _retain _it? That's something that's always been difficult for the stubborn Sheriff to do.

"Maybe you're right..."

She looks up to find dark brown shining with warmth that she couldn't help but give a grin of her own. Their gaze lingers, mirrored reflections of understanding and...affection for the living thing that tethers the two people that's suppose to be on the far corners of battle.

The tug from her stomach steals from their shared moment and the movement would've sent her into the window had it not been the seat belt hoisting her.

This is how it begins, Emma groans at the memory. The painful abdominal cramps, the distant shouts of her name by Regina, and her vision blurs to black until it settles on the picture her baby, or whatever, wants her to see.

Only this time that cycle doesn't happen. Sure that one tug hurt like hell, but it didn't continue like the moment in the Mayor's study. And the screen of her life fades to white rather than the opposing color.

* * *

_She blinks a few times, trying to look past the glare that appears to be...rays from the sun? A hand hanging over her eyes gives her some relief, but she couldn't stop that leaves her mouth._

_Large, blue-green waves crash amongst her right, lowly grumbling with each tide rising._

_The heat and grains that meet her feet tell her that she's barefoot and on the beach._

_**Why the hell am I on a beach?** _

_She undermines that when a figure catches her eye._

_The woman is maybe a few feet ahead of her, walking with comfort that insinuates that she's aware of her presence. Dark locks flow to the centre of a toned, tanned back, but with each stride Emma can catch the strip and red bow of a bikini. The bottoms having matching ties at the sides, clothing a firm ass that makes her groan._

_This Emma in her head seems to be comfortable with the woman before her, leading her further down the beach, and judging by the look of the incredible figure, she could see why._

_The small clutter of people scattered across the pale, yellow sand becomes a blur, and the brilliant sky dims at the edges._

_She knows this sign and realizes this vision is coming to an end. Unlike the other sequence where she's clawing for consciousness, she finds herself yearning to keep this intact. So she could figure out why she's here with this woman, and if it's an important to know._

_As the blonde squints her eyes she realizes that she knows that figure. Knows that stride and that confident sway of the hips. It's usually hidden in pant suits and pencil skirts, but damn she knows that body anywhere!_

**_"Regina...?"_**

_The woman glances over her shoulder and familiar brown eyes, narrowed with mirth and mischief, peers at Emma with a warmth that's unheard of in their relationship. And it's scarier that the blonde in the vision responds with the same comfort and happiness._

_"So you're not gonna tell me?" the happy brunette laughs._

* * *

The colors merge together— the blue sea, the yellow sand, _Regina — _into a white screen. After a few blinks, colors swirl behind her eyes, and she's back in the passenger's seat next to a very frantic Regina. The Regina with short hair and an evil past and emotional coverup the size of the Great Wall.

She roams the impatient woman with a curious eye. Even though she clearly sees the distress and worry in the crunched brow, she can't help the flutter of her heart at the memory. She actually saw a smile— a large, vulnerable, borderline goofy smile from the Mayor. Real or fake, present or past, vision or whatever, it's still a smile and it makes Emma give one of her own.

It relaxes the brunette, but she still eyes the pregnant woman with uncertainty.

"What did you see?"

The blonde starts to recall the dream, starts to mumble a happy and very youthful looking Regina on a beach, but she refrains at the last moment. For something so simplistic, the vision gives her a comfort she didn't know she needs. A warmth she is not ready, and a little ashamed, to reveal. There's a chance Regina might scoff in disbelief or ridicule, and she's too vulnerable to let that happen.

So she shakes her head with a growing, luminous smile, watching the incredulity and anger form in the brunette's features.

"I promise you it's nothing bad or about the baby," Emma informs, unbuckling her seat belt, "but this premonition thing, or whatever, was meant to be seen in private."

"And how do you know that?" Regina snaps, clearly not liking to be left out.

Regina's right— Emma doesn't know. She doesn't know why Regina's hair is down her back, or why she's utterly happy, or why the brunette asks: "So you're not gonna tell me?" but something in her gut says it's only for her to know and it's never been wrong before.

"I don't know," goes her honest reply as she unbuckles her seat belt. She's climbing out of the car, ready to leave a disgruntled Regina behind when she looks over her shoulder, smirking at the vein throbbing in the center of the former Mayor's forehead.

Regina is fuming, outwardly, and this is rare for the conniving brunette.

Emma revels in the power, appreciating the hold she can have on the tyrant, before she relents...a little. "You look good with long hair."

* * *

That insufferable little twit, Regina groans to herself. How dare she keep silent of this? If it's not disrespect, it's downright...irresponsible!

Although she wants to curse the ground— _again; _now you're making jokes, she begrudgingly thinks— Emma walks on, Regina is pleased the vision didn't seem to be negative one. The blonde's eyes still flickered that alarming multitude of colors, but she didn't whimper or contort in odd shakes as she did before. She just sat motionless, drifting off to whatever land her child sent her to with wild eyes.

But damn it, she's curious!

And she knows Emma is aware of her gnawing curiosity because the blonde stands beside her with this hidden smirk that Regina could punch off.

_It's not negative and it has nothing to do with the baby... It doesn't matter. _

But it _does _matter. That vision happened because of _her _baby, and damn it if she wants to be involved!

_Quit the dramatics. _

She has no excuse for this type of hysteria, and it's really out of character for her. She begins to think it's the magic around her that causes this delirium.

_It is a rather strong and...indulging sort of magic. _

She can remember the familiar fog tugging her body, just egging her to eject it to the nearest target. And not to mention the fire ball she inexplicably formed in the car, twirling around her fingers with a strength and life of its own.

But she shakes the looming seduction away, trying to put bits and pieces of the dream refuses to give. It's just hard to think with magic _literally _at her disposable. Yes there's been been magic that Rumple enacted so that wraith could kill her, but this is a different, unnamed kind of euphoria that's begging for indulgence.

_God it could be so easy... _

A loud gasp knocks her out of her reverie. "Regina!"

She initially frowns at the blonde, who stands wide-eyed, but her expression turns to just that when she sees flames descending a small bush, quickly spreading to shrubs and trees adjacent to it.

"Oh, dear," she gasps, swallowing loudly as she takes in the scene.

Regina doesn't remember setting the small area on fire, but the evidence is in the tingles of her fingers and the smell of her magic. Magic her is truly unpredictable.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell!"

"I didn't mean to," Regina tries to bark, but she's distracted and a little scared of the damage she's caused.

She looks around for witnesses but to her luck there's only a few bystanders scattered terrified around the small garden. They are unfamiliar faces and she's sure a glare could have them mumbling and fleeing the scene.

After the silent threat, she returns to the aflame bushes and Emma's quickened breathing, muttering an incantation under her breath to fix whatever the hell she started.

Finally with a twitch of the wrist, the fire is dampened into the air. She goes on to restore the burnt leaves back to its original state.

The only proof of the actual incident is Emma's glare.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know,"she stiffens, trying to null the embarrassment in her voice. She hasn't lost touch of her magic like that since she was a novice under Rumple's tutelage.

"Well shit, Regina, first you're making fireballs in the car- now you're toasting bushes. And you're not doing this on purpose?"

Somehow Regina knows the question is rhetorical, and it's said more out of disbelief than suspicion, but she shakes her head anyhow.

"The baby's magic does not mix with yours. It's like spoiled milk or bad takeout. "

"Would you stop comparing sorcery to the misfortunes of your world?" She hisses, flicking the collar almost regally to regain superiority.

First her seduction for magic is compared to low-life addicts, now it's incompatible with her baby's like expired food? Truly she's more complex than that.

"Guess it shows that we're not that different," she fires back.

"I beg to differ."

"You don't _beg_ for anything, Your Majesty. Not in this world, or anywhere else."

"You're damn right. And in another world you would be tied up in a dungeon for talking to me with such disrespect!"

"What would you do to me all tied up, My Queen?"

It's almost familiar how low and daring their voices get. How their eyes flicker over the other's face for any trace of vulnerability. The fight for dominance is almost comforting. Almost as if the curse didn't break and it's Sheriff Swan and Madame Mayor back at their daily quarrels.

Almost.

Then she remembers the pronoun Emma uses: my Queen.

She hates how her body shivers at the near throaty, albeit condescending voice. How she yearns to hear it again- maybe higher. Panting, perhaps? Worshiping her like the Queen she is.

It's the delirium of magic, she reminds herself. She doesn't want Emma now, like she didn't want Emma up against her wall.

All are simply moments of weakness.

Thank god this one doesn't last as longer as the latter, where Regina yields mercy from relentless touches and caresses, when they hear footsteps trailing from behind.

All animosity is gone and maternal instinct takes over when Dr. Whale is in view and Regina is in front of Emma. Even if events didn't actually prove anything, Regina can't help but sneer at the man responsible for trying to hurt her child in the carrier's vision. She even feels the blonde stiffen from behind.

"The Savior and the Evil Queen out for an early chat, eh?" The smug bastard sneers. "Discussing your execution, Your Majesty?"

Even after months since the curse broke and Emma's adamant notion of not ending the brunette's life, occasion Neanderthals like this one liked to dash out cheap jibs at her disposal. She usually laughs out with just an undertone of a warning to watch themselves before they received the wrath of the Queen, but the brunette can't help but growl at this special kind of asshole.

She didn't know how or _if_ the doctor will plan the attack in the blonde's head, but she plans to handle it with caution anyway.

"Can you quit with the dead jokes?" Emma peers from behind, breaking her silence. "Before they were barbaric, some a little funny, but now they're getting ridiculous."

The doctor turns to the blonde in response. "Emma." Regina hates how his lips curl at the name, like some unknown secret he plans to exploit and manipulate at his whim. It makes the brunette wonder just _how _much Whale knows about the pregnancy.

But that's impossible, Regina thinks with a relieved sigh. Emma can be obnoxious and overtly crass, but she's kept a low profile since the news. And this isn't exactly thrilling news to gush to the town folk, anyway.

"Snow tells me that you've been throwing up? Is everything alright?"

She feels the blonde tense at the question that has the vague coincidence of an accusation. Regina's stomach churns as well but she recovers but as quickly as the wave of nausea hit her.

"I threw up once," Emma says in a voice that isn't threatening, but definitely unfriendly. "Stomach flu. Who knew being the Savior didn't stop me from getting 'em."

He peers at her with curiosity, tilting his head as if she is some experiment, eager to probe and explore. It sets a bubble deep in the former Mayor's chest, but she softly sighs as if this interaction bores her.

Last thing she needs is her unpredictable magic lurking around at such an inopportune time.

"The dark bags under your eyes show sign of fatigue, restlessness," he smiles some more, but the two women know it's more predatory than genuine affection. "Hunched shoulders, sluggish posture-"

"Enough with the checkup, Whale," she growls, growing tired of this game. "Now if you don't mind-"

The doctor doesn't make effort to move. Even keeps that Cheshire smirk etched on his hard features. "Are you sure you're okay, Emma?"

At the mention of her name, Regina turns to find the blonde ghosting an unsightly pale beneath her skin. She is going to give it away, Regina initially thinks with an inward hiss, but she can't help but be worried over the unceremonious condition.

The blonde shoots a look that Regina deciphers that she's alright and there's nothing to worry about, but her heart continues to leap in her chest yet constrict with anxiety.

Who knows they just might need a doctor after all, Regina muses with a silent snort.

Luckily the Doctor finds mercy in the blonde's appearance and he excuses himself after he informs Emma to drink plenty of fluids and bed rest to tame her 'cold'.

Exhaling a breath she didn't know she's holding, Regina places a hand over the small of Emma's back, leading her up the couple blocks to Mary Margaret's apartment.

For once, the blonde acquiesces without effort.

* * *

Emma feels a churn in her stomach that she knows is morning sickness- though it's the afternoon. She feels it coming along when Whale seemed to be interrogating them, and she tries to keeping at bay. As if the Doctor didn't make his suspicions any more clear.

A wave winds her abdomen and she's hunched over the sidewalk, tossing off gold liquid. Luckily she has Regina to grab her waist before she tumbles and there's a reassuring hand holding blonde hair.

She didn't have morning sickness when she was pregnant with Henry, but this baby isn't even natural so she shouldn't expect tendencies to be as such.

Coughing up harsh air she makes an attempt to stand up, but a new trial of nausea takes over and she returns to her hunched position with Regina rubbing her back. I brief wonder floats in Emma- makes he wonder how her hair is lifted when both of Regina's hands are on her body.

_Magic, Duh. _

Feeling confident that there's absolutely nothing left to purge, Emma elongates her form, tossing an apologetic look over her shoulder. Regina waves her hand in disinterest, but the offer of a napkin and chewing gum from her purse show her concern.

Emma takes the items with a faint of sheepishness.

"Those don't seem fun, though I imagine the person who has to clean up your... essence won't be having such a blast, either," Regina points out wryly and Emma scoffs in response. Of course Regina couldn't allow a moment between them without banter and bite. Not a single moment of courtesy left unscathed.

Of course.

* * *

Walking inside the blonde's apartment, Regina can't help but sniff in distaste. She's always held a contempt for the interior decor the few moments she's unfortunately been in this hellhole, but now it takes a new form of hatred. Her son- her little boy raised in a mansion- rather live here, tiny loft barely made for two people, let alone four. All to get away from her.

She huffs her clear disapproval.

Either Emma ignores the sound or doesn't comment on it, because her eyes remain on the kitchen island. The dull, but somehow not calm, expression gets Regina's attention. The brunette tilts her head in a way Whale did before, and it's her turn to scrutinize every facial feature, every furrow of the brow, every purse of the lips. Oddly the blonde doesn't look nervous. Regina can infer the emotion based in the subject matter they have to unfold, but her expression doesn't show as such.

Should that alarm her? How Emma can devoid from emotion when a matter is expedient? Maybe. Probably, Regina corrects, but the brunette takes comfort in the silence. In the deflation.

She's not sure how she'd respond if Emma was a jittery, nervous wreck.

"Emma is that you, I thought I heard the door-" Snow's hollow voice becomes even when she's downstairs. Instantly her posture goes from carefree parent to defensive warrior at the sight of her nemesis. "What is _she_ doing here?"

Regina remains unmoved by the accusatory tone, partly for her practiced, Mayoral indifference and the other, dare she say it, to appear harmless. It's difficult to play coy for the woman responsible for ruining her life, but she swallows unrelenting and deep-seated anger for the sake of her child.

Emma avoids the question with "Is David home?"

Snow's eyes shift from Emma, to Regina, right back on her daughter. The look of anger falters when she sees something, something off about the blonde. She's been thinking about it for days- the not so subtle change in Emma's behavior. The lack of will to do anything but work and sleep. It didn't seem like such a pressing issue at the time, but with Regina here her nerves are apparent to the point of pain.

"What's going on?" Her need for strength crumbles when she's by her daughter, rubbing her arm. She almost forgets Regina is there, tries to really, but the mystery of her attendance is too dire to ignore.

Regina watches the embrace with an odd sense of calm. It should make her scoff under her breath, but she can't help but feel sorry for Emma right now. She must feel like an unwed teenager, begging to avoid the inevitable. To pretend that she didn't have to tell her mother that she's pregnant. But this situation goes past complicated. She has to explain _who_ conceived this child- a woman, a family _enemy_, no less.

"Emma." Snow's beginning the trial of panic, but she keeps it at bay with a gasp. Why is Regina beside her silent daughter? Why isn't anyone answering questions? Just _why_?

Emma folds her arms around her torso, heaving a sigh as she finally looks at her mother, who isn't even hiding the fear in blue eyes.

"You told Dr. Whale that I've been throwing up?" The random question throws Snow off and when she looks at the the other woman for validation, Regina seems to have that same affect.

Regina eyes the woman beside her with an arched brow, but not in her condescending way of amusement. She's actually surprised and finds it an... odd way to form the conversation but she doesn't object to it.

Snow lets her fear settle into confusion as she falters. "Well uh... you've been sick for a bit and I _know_ you can take care of yourself," somehow she knows her independent daughter will say something of that nature, "but I was just worried. What does..." Her gaze flicks from Emma to Regina, and back "what does that have to do with anything? Are you sick? And _why_ is _she_ here? Did she do something to you!" Snow's emotions fleet from fear to confusion to maternal anger all within a few blurted questions.

Emma takes a step back, but Snow's eyes are on her enemy's, squaring her jaw and shoulders in a way the former schoolteacher never could. The new change has Snow wedged between her enemy and her daughter almost meekly behind her.

"Technically yes ," Regina speaks for the first time, checking her nails as if she has something better to do.

Snow growls, actually growls, and Regina almost has to look up for validation. As an enemy for too many years to count, Regina has never seen the brunette's face twist in this sort of manner. She's seen her angry, tried to manipulate that emotion to her advantage, but this protection seems so innate and foreign at the same time. There are layers of betrayal and fear and emotions Snow, herself, aren't aware of, and it intrigues Regina.

Then she understands. The growl of protection, the fear of losing something you hold dear, the sheer need to do everything in your power to shield who you love.

It's something a mother could understand.

"She's been sick, but not in the way you're inferring."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Mom I'm..." Funny; Regina's never heard Emma call Snow her 'Mom' before. Somehow, in this moment, it seems appropriate since they're speaking of family.

Mary Margaret turns at her daughter's voice, nervous and strained. Emma looks pale, even paler than her- the proclaimed _fairest_ of them all- and her heart gallops in her chest. She tries to lock eyes with the younger Charming, but the blonde keeps them on the floor, stubborn to the end.

"Emma, you're _what_?" Snow swallows hard, terrified of the response, preparing for the blow.

"I'm..."

Regina watches the sweat grow between blonde brows, the tears that collect in green eyes, and the brunette lets out a sigh- slightly from annoyance that she has to do this, but mostly the situation itself- and finishes, "She's pregnant."

Snow turns to the brunette with wide eyes, almost in accusation, as if Regina needs to lie about something like this. The former Mayor keeps her gaze, steady and relaxed, again, as if she has something better to do.

She then looks at Emma and it's as if all of the empty details begin to piece together. The 'something I ate' the 'I'm just tired,' the slight weight gain. It's all so clear, yet disbelieving at the same time.

"Emma that's... are you?" The silence is Snow's confirmation and a sloppy smile forms. "Emma that's wonderful! I just..." The confusion lurks around her elation and it slowly takes toil entirely.

Regina lets out another sigh, this time not hiding her annoyance.

"Yes she's pregnant, but the circumstances are not that simple."

Regina's presence brings her back to her quick questions. "Em- what is she...wait... who's the father?"

Green eyes widen in panic and the comfort it seeks alarm Regina. She hates this responsibility and for once it is _she _who thinks this whole thing is a burden. Yes she's grateful for this opportunity, but this part is Emma's job while she provides for their child and tries to figure out how this situation came upon them.

This is all what Emma says, and yet she's standing there like a drenched puppy, waiting for its owner's care.

But that nulls a little when Mary Margaret says something shocking, utterly ridiculous to her daughter that they both shoot her mixtures of glares and gasps.

"It's not Hook's, right?"

"What?" Emma nearly yelps, opening her mouth then closing when nothing seems to come out.

"You know Hook?" Regina asks incredulously with a little wonder.

"Oh, Emma..." Snow sighs, shaking her head. "It was when you were getting the magic bean, wasn't it? I knew you were taking a bit long..." Her voice trails as she slips in thought, as if _that_ makes sense and that is the only logical conclusion.

"Yes," she begins to Regina, but her eyes widen at the implication it gives. "No! I mean, _yes_ I do know Hook- he's a sleaze- and _no_ it's not his! I would never let that self-absorbed ass anywhere near me."

"Then whomever it is, there's nothing to be ashamed of, Emma," Snow says in that gracious voice and Regina can't stop the harsh snort.

Emma throws a glare and it almost feels like they are their old selves again, bantering about their first shared child and not their second.

"Oh dear, Snow, you're going to be eating your words," Regina chuckles some more and Snow and Emma look like they'll pop a blood vessel if she doesn't stop.

"Mom this is gonna sound really weird but I'm gonna need you to believe us, okay?"

Snow shivers at 'us'. Evidently Regina is ether involved in this situation, or Emma feels the need to seek comfort from her former stepmother. Snow's not thrilled by either possibility.

But she nods reluctantly.

"I'm pregnant... with... Regina's baby." The blonde lets out a shaky breath as if she's relieved of the tension alleviating for a moment. As if she's been holding her breath this whole conversation.

Snow's eyes widening, Regina guesses, snaps her back into that meek state. But then that shock disappears and she sighs.

"Okay this is obviously some joke that you somehow managed the Evil Queen to get in on."

"She doesn't joke," Emma mumbles, and the edges of her lips tilt upward, and Regina finds herself doing the same. It brings them back to days before the curse broke or before magical babies and sticky drama and Regina actually smiles at the memory of Sydney informing Emma that when she made Sheriff.

"Okay this isn't funny!" Snow growls, snapping them out of their brief moment of commodity.

"I wish it were, dear," Regina replies briskly. It seems like she'll be doing the talking from here on. Her profession of nearly thirty years all stem from the power of persuasion, so she's better off with this affair than the nervous blonde. "According to Ms. Swan, she hasn't been intimate with a man in a year. And given the timeline-"

"Timeline?" Snow yells in interruption.

The room grows eerily quiet, and three seconds pass before Snow's face stills. "You guys... You guys slept together?" Her neck switches from the brunette to her daughter in a mixture of shock, confusion and disgust. "You had sex with my daughter?!"

The younger Charming kicks imaginary dirt from her boot, while Regina arches her brow with pursed lips.

Snow scowls.

"I suppose you rather live without the racy details," Regina rolls her words in indifference, adding an noncommittal shrug. "I do wonder where Emma inherited her sense of precision, though. One can describe me as a rather insatiable lover. I mean honestly it was-"

"Regina!" The blonde growls out in her typical exasperation. Snow, bone stiff and fuming, looks like the apples ripening on her tree. Emma's face mirrors the hue, but the expression fits more into mortification than anger.

"Anyway," Regina sighs, "somehow I've managed to get Ms. Swan pregnant, and something powerful is growing in her. "

Snow is still shaking, not exactly from anger but pure shock and, yeah, maybe still a little disgust at the situation. Her eyes can't leave Emma's stomach, as if she needs the faintly swollen abdomen for the realization. The blonde crosses her arms over her torso, suddenly self-conscious and a little awkward.

Oddly Regina seems to be okay with this turn out. For one, she didn't expect Snow to be alone and not have her pet- husband, Regina rolls her eyes- by her side. That makes this a whole lot easier to discuss when there isn't testosterone and irritating bravado clouding the situation.

"So this is your vengeance?" Mary Margaret grits out, low and cold, facing her former stepmother. "Making my daughter have this... whatever?"

Regina's mask of practiced indifference gets cast aside by the surprising, unceremonious reaction to that notion. "Excuse me?"

"Obviously you put some spell on her," she grins just a little, reveling in the affect her words had on Regina. "A woman can't have a child with another and besides she knows exactly who you are. My daughter would never lay a finger on you."

A nerve jumps in Regina's cheek, a hiss slipping from curled lips as she sizes the brunette up- the former schoolteacher doing the same. She shouldn't let silly words hold weight and definitely not let it be known, but Snow scratches her ego with them. It emphasizes that she couldn't be desired without manipulation and that hurts. It makes her wonder if her unborn child is capable of loving her, if she's even _worth_ it, and that cuts her deep.

"Two months ago _your_ daughter came banging down _my_ door at an ungodly hour, looking for a fight. She yelled at _me_, kissed _me_. Fucked me," she says that lower, throatier, letting the words take strength and meaning , "all without coercion. I had no interest in seeing again, but she, evidently, didn't feel the same."

Snow tries to ignore the vile words, the images that pops on its own accord, and levels her gaze on the former Mayor, refusing to show the fear that they hold strength and veracity. She goes with defiance, or denial- she's not sure- and replies "My Emma wouldn't do that."

"Your Emma is still in the room," the blonde growls, breaking her silence from behind.

Both brunettes turn to the sound of a very flustered, awkward, and angry Emma frowning from the sidelines. Aside from her mother, it seems like Snow- and Emma, in a way- could push her buttons and let the anger get the best of her. And honestly she, and probably Snow, have forgotten the blonde is even in attendance- too caught up in keeping egos and salting wounds to care.

"And she's right," she continues, softer, almost defeated. "I was... I came to her."

_Y__ou also came ____**for**__ me, dear_**.** But she keeps that thought to herself.

"Emma... how could..." Snow whispers facing the Sheriff, clearing her throat as she continues in a sharper voice. "This woman is evil! She is responsible for hurting so many people- separating you from your family, does that not mean anything? How could you do this to me!"

"To _you_?" Emma's shriek surprises both women, and it makes Snow take a cautionary step back. "I managed to get myself pregnant from an angry fuck and you're worrying about how it affects _you_?"

Snow frowns, eyes watering. "She's tried to hurt you. _How_ are you okay with this?"

"Who says I am?" An unconscious glance to Regina reminds Emma that they are not alone, and she heaves a sigh as if to refrain from saying anything worth regretting. "Look you're suppose to be my friend, my roommate. You're suppose to be _the_ friend. I'm suppose to be able to tell you anything without filter-"

"Emma, but you can-"

"No I... no I can't."

Regina didn't have to face Snow to know that knocks the wind out of her. Because she knows what it's like to be shunned from her child, to have them not want anything to do with her.

She knows that pain more than anyone could imagine.

"No you can't because you're not Mary Margaret, the schoolteacher. You're not my friend; you're my mother. The woman I spent twenty-eight years looking for. The woman I hated for leaving me alone... and then all of a sudden you're here as my mom. And David's my dad. And I'm a Savior and everything changed and you want me to be the baby that you held twenty eight years ago and I can't."

"So you go to Regina's for comfort," she sneers with a mixture of a sob and snort of disgust. "She's the Evil Queen, Emma" Snow raises her voice as if the volume strengthens her point. As if it can deter the blonde's. "And how does that make it better?"

"Who says I want it to be better?!" Emma's shouting again and Regina's wondering if she should excuse herself. If she's invading mother-daughter talk. Somehow her feet stays glued to the floor.

She'd like to say that she's staying to watch Snow's world crumble like her own had at the younger brunette's expense. But that's not all true because her eyes twinkle with curiosity. She wants to look into the blonde's muse- a piece that Emma deceptively keeps quiet.

Until now, where hormones take over structural stoicism and she's venting with no filter.

"Then what _do _you want, Emma? I know this is a lot to take in but I can let you have anything you like. You don't have to go through this alone." Snow must've forgotten Regina is still in the room; otherwise she wouldn't let the desperation show in her voice.

"It's that right there," the blonde points at the brunette as if expressing a point. "You're treating me like some princess-"

"That you are, Emma."

"That's what you _want _of me. That's what you and the whole town of...fairy tale characters," she lazily waves in the air "want. But she doesn't."

Regina doesn't realize she's being addressed until two sets of blue-green eyes peer at her- one with jealousy and the other of... gratitude.

The former Mayor just shrugs, oddly uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

"She is _evil_, Emma," Snow refaces the blonde as if it pains her to gaze at the woman who ruined her life any longer. It's the only point she can stand against but even the schoolteacher can see it's having little to no effect on her daughter.

"Yeah and rude and condescending- a little full of herself. A tyrant," Emma responds like a shopping list, as if she didn't yell at the top of her longs a few moments ago.

Regina scoffs. _I wouldn't call myself a tyrant...  
_

"And she still loves Henry more than anything... nothing's changed." Emma finds Regina's eyes then, and the intensity and sincerity in brilliant green knock the wind out her.

Regina clears her throat, finding it too intimate to gaze at Emma like that- all warm and emotional and...humane.

"So yeah, between she and I nothing's changed. She still finds me irritating and I think she's uptight and...well that's what I want. I want things the way it's supposed to be."

"I can't pretend you're not my daughter," Snow whispers out of her silence, voice wobbly with unshed tears.

"And I don't expect you to," Emma rubs her mother's arm. "I appreciate this, believe me I do, but... it's just gonna take some getting use to."

"I understand," Snow nods, even though the whole room knows she doesn't. She doesn't understand why her daughter wouldn't want a mother when she never had one. Especially when Snow, herself, remembers as a young child the need for one when her own died. She doesn't get why she wouldn't be thrilled over this change, thrilled to have questions finally answered. She doesn't get it, but she'll be here when Emma's ready.

Emma's hand on Snow's arm goes to her stomach, and it brings them back to the core subject of conversation.

"So...the... you're going to have a baby... with her?" She whispers as if the Evil Queen can't hear her.

Emma merely shrugs. "She raised Henry right. Can't see why she can't do it again."

Emma's words are delivered evenly and with nonchalance, but her eyes show the importance and gratitude that makes Regina's chest swell. That's all she wants- the validation of her role in Henry's life. The reassurance that she could raise a child despite her past, despite her own dynamic she has Cora.

That's all she ever wanted and Emma gives it to her.

She actually smiles, not caring her mortal enemy is in presence.

Emma makes a grin of her own, giving her a small wink, before it washes away when facing her mother. "So yeah, I'm having a kid with _her_. Again... kind of," she shrugs, making her way to Regina's side.

Snow's eyes follow her daughter's and Regina could now see that they are red and glassy. It must feel like a goodbye to her, a betrayal in loyalty. Regina almost revels in her victory, finally able to say she defeated and broken Snow White, but she's passed petty battles. She has other things to worry about and that's the potential peril for her child.

"I don't want you to believe this child is to ostracize you in any way," Regina suggests in her Mayoral voice.

"Yeah, and why would I believe that?" The snort sounds so bitter and self-deprecating that it doesn't fit the high tone Snow possesses.

"You wouldn't," Regina replies honestly. "I'm just informing you that it's not, and you have every right to be in my child's life despite our history."

She feels Emma's eyes on her profile, most likely surprised of what she's saying, as if she's incapable of showing sympathy. It doesn't bother her, though, because had it been another instance, where a third party isn't involved and just the infinite sparring of Snow White and the Evil Queen, then she wouldn't hold this amount of tact and consideration for the younger brunette's well being.

"Thank you," Snow mumbles almost regrettably.

With a pair of curt nods Regina announces, "I should get going."

"Me too," Emma blurts to the other women's surprise. She gives Regina a quick look before she lingers to her mother with an apologetic gaze. "I just... I just need some time. And Regina's house is bigger and..." She trails her voice because there's no need to explain. Snow gets the message loud and clear and the tears are dangerously ready to fall.

Emma offers her a hug and the brunette takes it without question, squeezing a little harder than necessary as if it's the last one she'll receive.

Now Regina definitely knows she overstays her welcome and excuses herself out, saying she'll wait outside for the blonde.

Closing the door behind her she leans on it for a second and exhales a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

_Well that was...interesting._

* * *

The moment the door closes, it's as if that snaps the wee bit of control and sensibility in her mother. She feels her neck getting moist and the shaking of the shoulders and Emma sheds a tear of her own.

"It's okay..." Emma mumbles, not knowing what to say. Not knowing if that's even correct. It just feels like the right thing and she goes with it, rubbing her mother's back, trying to calm her down.

For long moments the crying trails to whimpers, and that becomes sporadic sniffles and shivers. Eventually the brunette lifts herself from Emma's shoulder and heaves a sigh.

"I'm sorry," she says with an apologetic smile, rimming her eyes with her forefinger, sliding down her cheek with her palm to repeat the process on the other. "You're the one with the dilemma and I'm whining like a child."

"No, it's okay," Emma reassures with a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes, but the gesture is appreciated and Snow nods. "It's a lot to take in and that's why... I think the both us need time to process this separately."

Again Snow nods, but this one solemn and defeated. "I'll tell your father. I think I could manage to make this..." she pauses to think of the right words but settles with "_...this _a little easier."

Emma tries not to think if how her father would've responded had he been here, especially in Regina's company. Even if she never had one, she knows a father never wants to hear about his daughter having an unplanned pregnancy- and based on the grueling history of her partner, that'll make that much more difficult and depressing and disappointing. So she's glad Snow alleviates that responsibility a little, and she thanks her with a gracious smile. "Thank you."

"And Henry?" Snow queries with a caution.

For once Emma shrugs noncommittally. "I don't think he'll have a problem, honestly. I mean the kid believed in fairy tale characters and a curse when no one did. I don't think he'll be pressed about both his moms having a baby."

Snow seems to agree with her smooth nod. "So...I'll see you soon?"

She sounds like she's trying to hide the hope and fear in her voice, but Emma's good at reading people and notices. She chooses not to press and smiles with an assuring nod and steady response. "Very soon."

That gives Snow a wobbly smile. "Okay..."

Inadvertently nodding, Emma heads for the door with Snow following to lock her out.

She heads downstairs and onto the sidewalk to see Regina leaning casually against the passenger door of her car. There's something different about it; the confidence is there like always but Emma cannot remember the last time, if Ever, she's seen the former Mayor so relaxed.

She runs her hands over her face, stealthily wiping any excess tears until she's standing in front of the regal woman.

If the brunette notices tears she doesn't say anything and simply opens the door she's leaning on, gesturing the blonde to step inside.

Given the older woman's attire of black slacks and matching trench coat, the offer makes her look like some chauffeur. Emma holds her gaze, Regina raising a brow a bit, before she chuckles and climbs inside. Slamming the door Regina makes her way to the driver's seat, doing the same.

Emma buckles her seat belt and gets comfortable in the leather until she realizes after a few moments they're not moving. Looks over to see Regina gazing rather pointedly at her rear-view mirror.

"Regina?"

After another concerned pause the brunette steels evenly,"Thank you."

Huh? "Um you're welcome? ...for?"

The brunette exasperates a sigh, as if the answer is so clear and Emma is too dense to see it. "For believing that I could take care of a child despite my...infamy."

"Oh," Emma mumbles with a pause, shrugging a bit. She was only telling the truth; it didn't seem like such a big deal until she sees the softness in brown eyes, the gratitude.

"It was nothing really," she adds, suddenly sheepish.

Apparently that is the wrong thing to say, or the wrong way to word things when she falters, eyes darkening before they settle on to the road, ready to drive.

Emma feels the shift, though she's confused. She settles further into her seat, gazing out the window, wondering what she did wrong but comes up short. Instead of apologizing, the blonde tries a different approach.

"Thank you," she says, watching the landscape of her apartment come alive as the car accelerates.

She feels eyes on her, but keeps her own in the passenger window.

"For?"

"For still seeing me as your daily pain in the ass," Emma quips.

"It's nothing really," Regina says dryly.

The harshness makes the blonde turn to survey her results, if she made this worse by that comment, but is pleased to see the edges of plump lips twitching upward.

It gives the Sheriff confidence to continue. "And for...being Henry's mother. A _good _mother. Even if he doesn't appreciate it now...I do. So...thanks."

Yeah so her confession is low and awkward and bit uncomfortable, but Emma knows Regina feels the sincerity. She knows that Emma means every word, and the softness blossoms over olive features. It seems like a weight lifts from her shoulders- a burden that no one, not even Emma, could see. A smile slowly follows, a small one but endearing nevertheless, and the tension is finally lifted. There's no more fumbling over words, and no more awkward side glances.

"That's all I want to be," she replies softly.

Now, with both confessions in the air, Emma feels a sense of serenity that she hadn't felt since the curse broke, or even further back than that.

_Interesting._

* * *

******Remember when I said how this is going to be a four shot, or something like that? Yeah, I don't know when this is ending. I just thought of these really crazy ideas for this and I want that develop. Ugh I can't wait. Please leave me a review. Feeds the muse :)  
**  



	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for this lack of update. School and family issues kept me out of writing for a while. My apologizes. Also, I wrote this Snow before the whole 'The Queen is Dead' fiasco, so for the sake of this fic that never happened. In fact this takes place just after the "Cricket Game." but no Cora and Hook, or falsely accusing sexy Queens of murder. Emma invited Regina and after that incredibly adorable-but-awkward scene outside Granny's, Regina went home. Kay? Kay.  
**

* * *

It didn't take long for Ms. Swan to get accustomed to her new living changes. In two weeks, Regina learns to find out that Emma can manage to be even more infuriating as a roommate than as a Sheriff and all-around nuisance. She's sloppy, sings _horribly _in the shower, and damn...she doesn't wear much clothes.

That part, she's afraid to believe, doesn't bother her much.

Her stomach is more noticeable now. The swell of her lower abdomen peeks through her typical white tank top. With just she and the blonde living here, she doesn't make it her business to hide it.

That brings a smile to the brunette's face.

"Ms. Swan," Regina calls, smirking at the shock in those wide eyes when she sneaks up on the pregnant woman in the kitchen. The brunette, however, expresses her own surprise when she notices something on the blonde that she wouldn't give the slightest thought had this situation didn't come to surface.

"You wear _glasses_?"

For a fleeting moment Emma shows the same confusion until her fingers come in contact with black, rimmed frames and she outwardly groans. "I swear I thought I put them in..." she says in a whine while Regina smirks.

"I presume you're referring to your contacts?"

The blonde rolls her eyes, but the silence amuses Regina. The Sheriff's posture and prop just embodies awkward.

"How come you don't wear them?"

"It's hard chasing down assholes who jump bail with these dangling from your face," she grumbles, focusing to her original task of pouring herself some water out of the large pitcher.

"I will not have my child bear witness to your fatuous language, Ms. Swan."

Emma tenses, gazing downward.

_Well that's strange._ Regina means that as a joke, well partially but it was all done in jest, yet Emma's shoulders square then slouch.

"About that..."

Okay _now _Regina is the guarded one, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the taller blonde that somehow looks smaller.

"I'm about eleven weeks, I think, and I still haven't seen a doctor. And I'm kinda larger than I was with Henry at this time."

Regina's anxiety, bordering to anger, lifts with a tired sigh. "I know." It's hard to go to the only doctor in town who hates the ground you walk on.

"I need... I need to see it to know-"

"That this is real," Regina finishes, somewhat deflated.

She struggles to find her words, nodding softly as she adds "I could feel the heartbeat, it's actually in conjunction to mine..." She pauses as if that bothers her, more perplexed than anything. "I know something's there and it's real; I just need to see it."

"Seeing Whale is definitely out of the question," Regina forces out, suddenly wondering if _this _is the reason for the blonde's sudden discomfort. Wondering if she did something stupid like book an appointment. But she sighs in relief when the blonde concurs.

"I know. That's why we need to leave town."

"Okay..." The brunette furrows her brow, still confused by Emma's aloof behavior. "I feel like there's a 'but' here."

She watches the muscles of Emma's jaw grind under pale skin, green eyes contemplating. The younger woman opens her mouth, but only a sigh exhales.

"Emma..." She wants to scream, or scoff at her hesitance, but decides that tact can get her a long way. A hand goes for a bare bicep, tense and slender with a deceptive strength.

"I made a deal with Gold."

That hand stiffens.

"You _what_?" She doesn't have to know the essence of the deal to know the shakiness of it. Gold doesn't compose or accept them unless it benefits him, and the thought of his end terrifies her.

"It needed to be done."

Regina blinks, appalled at Emma's sudden shift from reserved to downright insolent. Does she not realize the mistake she's made?

"And what did you tell him?"

"I told him I sniffed some pretty dark magic back where... you're from," she stumbles over that awkwardly, "and somehow it made me pregnant. I need to see a doctor out of town. And when I'm gone, I need the doctors to not remember me or anything freaky going on with the baby."

"And what the hell does _that _mean?" Regina seethes, practically squeezing the arm beneath her palm.

Emma flinches but doesn't take the effort to move. "Regina we're going into my world, the _real _world where two women don't make babies, and have magic. If they even suspect that anything supernatural is going on I'm going to be hauled in some lab with wires probed in me."

"I wouldn't let that happen," she growls, moving impossibly closer, but the threat in her voice goes unaffected to the blonde.

"And in my world you can't rip out hearts, or curse people to another realm, or have them kneel at your command because you're royalty. You're just some thirty-something woman who's just over hundred pounds."

They're so close, tips of their noses barely brushing, protruded stomach as their only border, but neither one seems to move. They've been tiptoeing around the topic of their sexual encounter, but even now Regina cannot deny their tension. She eyes everything- the furrow of blonde brows, the curve of high cheekbones, the downward edges of the blonde's scowl, the cool determination in green eyes behind thick frames- and a churning mix of audacity and innate possession forms in her belly. It hurts her, hurts her deep, that the blonde went as far as making a deal with a well-known manipulator, than seek out her help.

It also hurts that the blonde is correct.

But why does she care? Why is she even valuing the opinion of a woman she has the displeasure of being tied to? Why does she think of their night together- rough, passionate, and selfish- when there are more important issues? It shouldn't matter to her, but Regina of all people knows her life is a mocking tale of irony.

Her distress and internal questioning of self-worth must show because Emma's eyes soften. They still have the edge of righteousness- well that's a family trait, isn't it- but concern and sincerity overpower the hardness of her voice a moment ago.

"You say people here are barbaric and won't hesitate to kill me? Well I can say the same out there ... which also brings me back to comparing our worlds. We really aren't that different. I'm doing this for us... I'm going to protect my family."

Regina gives her one last thorough look- what she's looking for, the brunette doesn't have a clue- before she takes a step back with a curt nod. _Family... _

"And when exactly did you propose this deal?" She asks tersely, hating that she has to accept the blonde's actions without rebellion.

"A week ago."

Her eyes widen. The hell with cordiality! "And I guess you were going to inform me of this when a screaming mob comes pounding my door, ready for your head?"

"I was waiting for the right time-"

"And when will that be? There is no _right _time seeing that it's limited! You should've told me the second you thought of this extremely impulsive decision," she disapproves with a frown.

Emma's eyes harden, patience apparently growing thin. "Look the deed is done, okay? You can stand here and whine about it, or we could move forward like responsible adults."

"Responsible adults don't go making blind-sided decisions without even considering the dire consequences. But then again, you don't need to be responsible in order to become a mother."

Instead of spitting back, or running from this issue, doing _something _that resembles Emma Swan, the blonde merely snorts as a response. "Feel better?" She sneers.

"No I don't!" Her yelling somehow softens into conceded defeat. "Rumplestiltskin is a snake, or have I not mentioned this before? You just can't make prodigious decisions like that without my say. This is my child as well." Her voice comes out weaker than she liked, and she immediately grumbles "whatever" in dismissal, so she wouldn't think much of it.

The brunette turns around heading out of the kitchen, but a stiff hand on her bicep stills her, eventually spinning her around. Her initial response is to hiss at such brute behavior, but the bite falters when she's met with an uncharacteristically soft and open expression that lingers. Flustered and a little self-conscious, the former Queen looks away, hiding her sudden timidity with a sniff and a step backward, no longer touching the blonde.

"You're right," she sighs. "This is your kid too and I should've talked to you first."

The soft admittance surprises Regina and she couldn't lie it feels nice to know that the blonde regrets undermining her say in this, but she only reveals a stiff nod of understanding. Emma has seen far enough of the Evil Queen than she could enjoy.

"I'm just used to doing things on my own... I forget that..." It seems that Emma is ready to reveal something emotional judging by the furrow of her brow and the faint quiver of her chin, but the blonde sighs and goes with "it was really shitty not to tell you."

Regina concedes with an eye roll. The blonde is right; there's no time for pointless quarrels. "Your language, Ms. Swan," she chides, but there's barely any bite in it.

Emma recognizes the tease and grins with apology.

"Now," Regina's expression returns stern, "call your mother with your things." She's leaving the kitchen with Emma trailing along, a little slower and unsteadily due to the life inside her.

"What are you talking about? Most of my stuff is here."

_Most of your things are on your bedroom floor_, but she bites her tongue. "Yes it seems, but I am sure you're dense enough to forget important documentation such as your birth certificate, social security, etcetera, etcetera?"

Emma's silence and sheepish blush to the cheeks answer her question.

"I rest my case."

* * *

"You did _what_?" Snow shrieks, blue eyes wide and crazed.

With reluctance and Regina's bossy demand, she admits to her mother that she made a deal with Gold. Well, let's just say her response isn't happy.

"He doesn't make deals, Emma. It's just a sly way of getting what he wants- how could you be so foolish!"

"Idiotic," Regina corrects, walking into the den with bottled water. "Simply moronic."

For once, Snow doesn't object Regina's condescension. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

The question is pointed at the other brunette and she responds with "Because the idiot just informed me of her brilliant plan."

Snow glares at the blonde, who fires back at the two brunette's before her. "No, thanks for your support, _Moms_," Emma sneers, rolling her eyes with her contacts now in. "I really appreciate it."

Regina just scoffs, taking a swig of her water.

Snow's pale features soften, and a sigh follows. "Okay. Okay, okay, what is his end of the deal?"

The blonde shrugs. "He says he'll cash it in when he's ready."

Emma thinks both the brunettes just might pop a blood vessel. Well, that surely wasn't the right thing to say.

"You imbecile!" Regina growls while Snow frowns. "He could take the baby-"

"No," she puts a hand up. "I told him up front that was out of the question."

"How did you word it?" It almost seems like a silly question to answer- c'mon did it really matter what she said- but Regina gives her a glare only an Evil Queen can make, and Snow's isn't exactly far off with intensity.

Oh, she messed up bad.

"I said Gold can not and will not have authoritative rights over my child."

Both women heave an unanimous sigh, accepting.

"I cannot imagine the things Rumplestiltskin can do with a magic baby."

"I can and it isn't pretty," Regina adds.

"So... is it like a potion?" Snow adds inquisitively in a way that makes her small like Henry.

Emma shakes her head in the negative. "Nah, it's a powder. He said to just blow it on my target and they'll forget they ever knew me."

"All magic comes with a price, Ms. Swan. Don't make this sound so simple."

"And even if he can't take your child, he could twist those words into something evil. Oh Emma, you're not safe and neither is the baby."

"I told you it was a stupid idea," the older brunette quips.

The blonde growls something unquestionable in her throat. At one time in her life she'd wish for something to make Regina and Snow amend a beef that's lasted far too long to hold this amount of passion. But she doesn't want it at her expense, or doubting her parental abilities. Evidently that's what is happening and all she sees is red.

"Really? I'm gonna take advice from a mother who forced her son to go to therapy so he could forget her secret of cursing an entire town of fairytale characters?" She didn't linger on the former Mayor's gasp because her eyes are already on Snow's, dark and dangerous with undercurrents of deep-seated anger. "And you," she points accusingly "who thought it was a grand fucking idea to transport your new born baby by herself to a world you knew nothing about?"

Emma shifts her gaze from her mother's to Regina's, and the twin set of anguish, regret, and self-loathing hits her in the gut. She sees that's a low blow for the both of them, and while its typical for Snow- well, Mary Margaret the schoolteacher- to fidget, the mirrored response from Regina surprises her. And hurts her.

"I'm sor..." The apology is cut off by a sob that sneaks behind the blonde's throat. She can't even blame it on the fucking hormones because- shit, her heart hammers at the self hatred that lingers in the room.

"You're right," Snow mumbles, her voice dangerously graveled, eyes never leaving her lap. "Neither of us are perfect, and we shouldn't vilify you for not being such."

Emma accepts that and shifts her gaze to the older woman. She is stiff, and not her usual Mayoral condescension that Emma use to poke fun at, but a genuine stillness, a detachment to the world that's frightening.

The blonde wonders what she should say, _if _she should say anything at all. It's not like it was a lie, or that the jab wasn't undeserved, but the overbearing silence seems like it's closing in on her.

Luckily, a stiff knock on the door gives her time to stall.

Regina stands and moves out the room with her typical regal grace, but Emma sees the stiffness in her shoulders. Fuck! With a groan she gets up,Snow annoyingly by her side in seconds just in case she needs help, and follows the brunette.

She turns the corner, nearly view able in the spacious foyer, but swoops back when she hears jumbled complaints of unruly men.

"Where is she?!" Sounds like Grumpy.

"And who is this 'she' you're referring to?" Regina responds, smooth and regal.

"We know you have her. You cursed her!" The male voice is unidentifiable, but Emma can pinpoint the rage.

It's hard to see in the compressed space of the wall, hard to identify faces peeking through the former Mayor's door, but Emma can feel the mob a few away from her, and she's not dumb. She knows what this is about.

Taking a deep breath and a silent prayer to a god she didn't believe in, Emma peels from her shield and makes herself known in the foyer. Maybe she could avoid this vision- maybe that's what the vision is for. Awareness of a possibility; not necessarily the future.

Discordant sets of gasps and pairs of eyes widen at her visible stomach. Regina must've noticed their change in attention and she shifts her own, glancing over her shoulder. Even deemed as The Savior, she is still uneasy by the numerous amount of eyes that glue on her. Now, she's even more nervous because their scrutiny doesn't look positive. They look surprised, as if they've been pondering over this topic and it's finally revealed, and it's beginning to scare her.

Regina looks down at her stomach, then back up to her eyes with a determination that speaks volumes. A silent reassurance of safety. A comfort that she never dreamed she'd received from the Evil Queen.

With a flick of an olive wrist, the mob is pushed from the door, past her podiums that structure her mansion, on to the stones of her walkway.

Some fall, others catch their balance, and Emma could feel the indifference coming from the mayor. She walks up then, foot over foot, until she's behind the former Queen. She catches blue eyes in the front lines and sighs a sense of relief. David, her father. Obviously he won't let them hurt her. Maybe that vision thing was an exaggeration, or just her paranoia painting a picture in her psyche.

"David," she calls out, ready to run into his arms, but Regina's hand to her stomach stops her. It's wary, palm flat against the swollen curve, making Emma glance against her profile with confusion.

But then she looks at her father, the tightening of his jaw, the sadness and shame of blue eyes, palm cautiously over the butt of his sword, she now understands Regina's guard. He's not siding with her. He's consumed by the fear the town orchestrated and not even the bond of blood could shake that.

Now she's horrified and disgusted.

"You're carrying a witch baby!" Grumpy calls out, breaking the silence. That breaks the wall and the insults fly, one overlapping the other. From "The Queen cast a spell" to "Emma is evil now" and other vulgarities that starts a churning to the blonde's stomach.

As of now they are at the spot Regina tossed them, and that's good... for now. But as Emma looks at her surroundings, the brunette's hand still determinedly placed on her stomach, it dawns on her that _this _is it! With wide eyes she searches the crowd, now paying attention to their weapons- some sticks, mostly knives and torches- and heart pounds against her chest.

Somehow the commotion alerts Snow because her mother is now beside Regina, bow and arrow equipped to her back.

"Snow!" Grumpy calls, actually faltering for a minute. If it's from shock that she's on the opposing side, or fear that he might have to fight his friend, Emma doesn't know.

"What the hell is going on?" Snow growls in a way that sounds too familiar to Regina's voice. "You think I'd let bombard my daughter like this?"

"But Snow-" David starts and that seems to be a big mistake.

"No." She sees Regina take a glance at her mother in front of her, a look of...admiration forming at the profile. "You let these people come here-"

"This baby could be dangerous."

"But Emma is not! If you need a reminder _Emma _is the one who saved us! David how could you even...this is our daughter." The regal threat of Snow's voice waivers when she speaks to her husband. As if the realization hits her right in the gut. That not even her husband, her _one true love, _would be on opposing ends with her.

"We don't want to hurt Emma," he says, tears glistening in his eyes. "We just..." It seems like the thought of voicing what's obvious makes him remorseful, but Emma's heart still stings at the betrayal- _another _abandonment on her parent's part.

"And look who put us in danger!" Whale sneers, being the daring first to take some steps forward.

"Regina!" One of the dwarves shouts.

"She's a part of this!" Michael growls.

"She's trying to kill us!"

And as muttered reassurances of that theory strengthens, they all follow Whale's stupid approach, charging up to the three woman. Regina has a fire ball, high and radiant in seconds, and Emma eyes it with horror. The crowd stops their movement with unanimous fear.

When Regina bends her elbow, pushing her hand behind her head, the intent of the attack hits Emma heavily and she reacts on instinct.

"No!" she yelps, pushing the brunette to the side.

Regina stumbles, but she catches her footing before she lands on the floor. But she couldn't stop the fire catching grass- curling leaves, creating a fiery border.

_Fire... It was...me? _

"What the hell!" Regina yells, eyes wide and angry and a bit confused.

"That would've killed them!"

"Sort of the point, dear."

"You're not suppose to do that!"

"Oh, like they're giving us the same courtesy?" That's directed to them with a loud hiss.

"Regina this isn't the way."

"If you think you're going to attack my daughter, then you have to go through me!" With a turn of the shoulder, Snow's bow and arrow is in hand, daring a person to move closer.

Seems like Emma is the only one here with some compassion at the sound of death.

Snow's speech of how shocked she is of the town's behavior grows deaf to Emma's ears when she notices the fire is becoming larger.

"Regina, the fire!" She exclaims expectantly, but she is met with a grim expression to the screaming town. "Jesus Christ, do something!"

"Why?" Goes a voice so bleak, so hollow, barely recognizable. "Why shouldn't I let it burn to the ground?"

"Because that's not you," her wide eyes shift from the fire now scaring the town, but somehow Snow isn't fazed, to Regina's expression, just watching with dead eyes.

"And what do you know about me, dear? I wasn't deemed the Evil Queen for nothing."

"That's not who you are anymore!"

"Oh that's rich. I love when the good guys tell the bad they're good. _They _decide who's worthy of shiny titles when it suits them. But the minute you fall, the minute when you lose control, you're back at square one. A murderer. A deviant. A bad mother," she looks at Emma then, eyes blank, revealing nothing with her expression, "So please, quit the heroic act. That's more of your parents' forte."

"Uh Regina?" Snow calls out frantically, eyes never leaving the crowd and the growing fire.

The fire barks into larger flames, terrifying and angering the mob parked in her front yard. The sticks that were once used for combat, is now their torches. Whale is the first to stride but Snow launches an arrow to his shoulder, faltering.

"Gah!" He grumbles through clenched teeth, hunching over as he grabs the neck of the bow.

"Next will be in the chest if you, or _any _of you, move closer. My daughter will not be harmed just because you all are paranoid. Surely there is a way to talk this out."

"This isn't you, Regina," Emma shakes her head frantically, panicked gaze flickering from the brunette's bleak expression to the roaring fire. "Maybe it's the old you, or a part of you, but this isn't the mother of our son..." Then her eyes lower to her rounded abdomen, knowing this will be a low blow, _knowing _she'll knock the wind out of Regina. But she needs the brunette to understand that vengeance won't keep them safe. She needs Regina to understand that she needs to change for the sake of their child.

So she grumbles, low and shaky, "...and our daughter."

Brown eyes flash at her with an inscrutable gaze that makes Emma almost wish that she could take it back, that she could forget the guilt jibe at righteousness, but the stirring in her stomach, the _reminder _that lives there, breathes there, lets her stand tall and reach over to place the brunette's hand over her abdomen. There's pain, anger, even a little fear, but those brown orbs widen in recognition of the kick Emma just felt. It's the first time Regina's touched her belly. The first time Emma _allows _it.

A series of emotions flicker in Regina's eyes, wide and astonished...innocent, even. She just stares and stares, as if she looks away the proof of their child will disappear. So Emma uses the hand over Regina's and weaves their fingers together, lightly pressing against the small protrusion. Reminding her why they are, again, bonded to the hip, reminding her who they are really fighting for, reminding her what really matters.

And when Regina looks up, steeling eye contact with the blonde, it's when she feels it. When a bolt of energy sizzles in the hand that connects with Regina, she feels the billowing through her veins and skin and pores. She can't seem to describe it and she looks at Regina for words, but the former Mayor is more enamored than cautious. Her eyes dance with joy that's nearly palpable, that Emma can practically _see _in her own veins. They tint a light gold, and somehow Emma knows her eyes does the same.

"Regina!?" Emma gulps.

"That's not me, dear," she says all too proud, a gleaming smile splitting her face. There's pride in her eyes when she lowers her gaze to Emma's stomach, resembling a parent proud of their child's first steps. Or their first pitch. Magic, as destructive as it is, still manages to thrill and exhilarate Regina, and even though they both should be giving wary gazes, Emma mirrors the brunette's happiness.

"So is it-"

"Yes, Ms. Swan."

The murmured gasps and whispers are tuned out when Emma just feels this energy inside her. An embodiment that seems displacing yet familiar at the same time. She can't explain it; she's never been good with voicing her emotions, let alone something that's already foreign with her.

The magic re-attracts the attention of the crowd and even Snow who turns around to see the sudden fuss. Its golden hue flares in little flames, surrounding the two women who's still connected by the hands. The humming is becoming too much and it's making her dizzy, but the more her vision blares, the brighter and sharper the shield becomes.

There's extreme yelling...

...then...heavy silence. A silence so abrupt that Emma can still hear the ringing in her ears.

"Guys?" Snow shakes out. "What the hell just happened?"

Emma finally tears from Regina's lidded gaze and gasps at the audience, stilled in their spot. _Frozen, _is the better word. Wide, passionate eyes and opened snarls of Storybrooke remain fixed in their positions. No heavy moments, no large pants of air. Even the flames now stand as fiery sticks in the air, the smell of smoke gone.

"Whoa," Emma mutters, running a hand through her hair.

"Did you...did you freeze time?" Snow gasps, looking around, eying her surroundings. Even the _wind _is suspended in the air, and _wow _that does a twisting to Emma's frazzled mind.

"I believe so," Regina inquiries, her voice somewhat in a hushed awe. She removes herself from Emma and the tingling of magic sizzles before it fades out. The yellow glow still embodies the brunette's figure, and Emma looks down, noticing the same golden hue around her own hands and legs and stomach. "I've never seen anything like it."

"I could say the same," Emma snorts, still a little shaken by the frozen faces unnaturally gawking her face.

"And why am I not frozen?" Snow asks, waving her hands in wide arcs to prove a point.

Regina takes a moment to ponder the theory, worrying her teeth into her bottom lip until her eyes widen in recognition. "Everyone here is considered a threat. You, myself, and, of course Ms. Swan, are not. I suppose...the baby was able to detect who was the dangerous one."

"How long does it last?" Snow tosses over her shoulder, eyes widening. Emma suddenly feels that trepidation creep up her spine, that her father- as angry and hurt as she is because of him- might not come to consciousness again.

That will be another burden she could add along with this baby.

"It appears to be a simple freezing enchantment, though I've never experienced scenery to be frozen... Well, they are not set in stone so I can reverse this if needed be."

"That's good!" Snow chimes.

"That comes down to opinion," Regina says dryly, earning an eyeroll from both Charming women. "I have to admit, I can see the allure in David when he's in this state."

"Very funny," Snow grumbles. After a pregnant pause and awkward glances, the schoolteacher whispers, "It's not safe here."

"I know," Regina mumbles.

"Emma won't like it."

"But it's what we have to do."

Snow makes a nod at that before walking back to her daughter, who's too busy admiring the newfound sculptures, and puts on a smile Regina knows is fake.

_It's not safe here._

* * *

It's easier to tell Emma that they have to leave town, and fortunately Emma agrees with no fight. It's when they are all packed up, the three of them by Regina's Benz, is when it finally clicks in her otherwise preoccupied head.

"Mary Margaret, where are you going?" Emma asks, almost too innocent to resemble the woman who's slayed dragons and went through a rocky life in the foster system. She's just a pregnant girl confused of her mother's intentions, and that's why it breaks Regina's heart that she has to say it.

"Emma..." Snow's eyes dart to ex-Mayer and for once in a long time, there's no sign of hatred or pity or that self-righteous blood in her. It's a plea for her to speak, to explain to Emma, because just the thought seems to make Snow into the cowardice Regina saved eons ago. She can't break in front of her daughter; somehow has to be strong for her.

"Emma," Regina steps in a bit awkward, catching the former schoolteacher's eye before focusing on the confused blonde, "the curse is broken but not entirely lifted. If Snow crosses the border she'll..." Even the Evil Queen finds it hard to break it to her when her green eyes seem unnaturally wide and pure.

"I won't remember," Snow finishes with regret.

Finally clarity catches in her eyes and Regina breathes a sigh of relief. This will hurt, but Emma grew up in this world, a world full of regret and disappointment. It'll be painful, but she'll understand. Or at least accepts it.

Oh so she thinks.

"But you have to come with me."

"I'll be right here," Snow tries to explain in a soothing voice, touching her chest to explain where she'll be, as if she's hushing a child. In a way she is and if Regina could see that then perhaps Emma could as well and that makes her angry, delirious with fear and desperation to remain the strong woman she's always been.

"They'll rip you apart! I won't have that. If you can't come then I'm not leaving."

Emma seems so defiant by this- voice so sharp with finality that it makes Regina hang her head. The three of them know that's not a possible outcome, given the town's outcry, but her denial is so thick, her refusal nearly palpable, that Regina suddenly wishes that there is another way out of this. That she could bring Snow just so she could wipe the pained expression off the blonde's face.

"David wouldn't let that happen," Snow tries, but that angers Emma even more.

"Oh your _beloved _husband?" Emma moves away to fully profile her mother, as if _she's _the delusional one. "The guy ready to put a sword through me along with his posse?"

"He would never do that! He's scared and wants to protect you..." Snow visibly shivers as if her poor, _good-willed _husband isn't capable of such an act.

Figures, Regina muses, that Snow would paint the perfect picture to her daughter about the remarkable father that could do no harm.

Well the thought makes her sick.

"And what do you _think _they were gonna do if they got their hands on me?"

Snow sobs, "Emma's that not-"

"No, sorry if I can't trust these sadistic fucks you call a family! You're not staying anywhere near them-"

"Ms. Swan," Regina steps in once again, just as awkward as before, taking hold of the blonde's arm that trembles at the touch.

Maybe if she could tighten the grip it'll snap the hysteric woman back to reality. Back to a life before fairytales and parents. Back to a life where despair is expected and she be handled devoid of emotion.

But she can't. Too much has happened since then. Too much of bonding and care that can't be wavered by a touch of reality.

"No Regina, tell her this is insane," Emma turns to her for the first time. "You said it yourself that these people are barbaric in nature. Tell Mary Margaret she can't stay. Tell her!"

If Regina can blink for a moment, just a moment, she could see Snow roll her eyes at Regina's jabbing content of Storybrooke's finest while she indignantly purses her lips. But that's just for a moment when things are normal, when bureaucracy is in order. Now all that meets her are sad eyes and identical wobbly chins.

"David may be incredulous about the baby- which is understandable- but one thing that I know irritatingly more than anyone, is that your father loves you and Snow and wouldn't let anyone hurt her. They were trying to force me to 'help' you. They had no intention of killing you, dear." She remembers the futile attempt to seduce David's cursed self, how even _then _he had some unexplained tether to his wife. Yes those two idiots are in love.

"And I need to make sure this town doesn't reduce to ashes," Snow points out.

Of course _Snow _would manage to make this about her. That she's doing this for the greater good, like some martyr, while Regina's the wicked witch of the west, ready to separate another family.

Of course.

It's as if none of that processed into Emma's mind because her eyes remain still and unfocused. "But you can't leave..." she mumbles and as her voice raises, so does the desperation. "You just got here- you can't go! I know you know- you can't leave me!"

The blonde no longer faces her but Regina can hear the crack, the sob that makes her mother do the same; tears she tries, but fails, to keep intact.

"Emma; my sweet, sweet, Emma..." Regina turns away with clenched eyes, feeling like an intrusion to the embrace. She tries to will this event away, hugging her torso almost with a desperation as frantic as Emma's behavior, but she still hears twin sobs behind her. Still hears the sound of mother and daughter embracing each other with the mutual knowledge that this could be the last.

She could hear Snow clearing her throat, trying to pull herself together for the both of them. To say her goodbyes with clearness.

"Emma, darling, we're family. And family will do anything to protect one another. Even if it's...even if we're not together..."

It seems to be the wrong thing to say when Emma whimpers in response.

"I found you once, and I will find you again. Family always find each other."

That silly, traditional Charming would make Regina scoff if she didn't look up and take sight of the brunette's hand to the blonde's face, wiping away relentless tears with a care only a mother could conjure.

It makes Regina feel a mixture of adoration, envy- a dash of deep-seated anger for the woman that stole that very opportunity from her- but more importantly, and shockingly, sadness and understanding looms around her like the magic that flickers in her veins.

Snow's going to lose her child again, and for once it isn't out of vengeance. That's what probably makes it all the more heartbreaking, Regina muses; the balance of their roles, good and evil, has been displaced. They're not Snow White, The Savior, and The Evil Queen battling to the death. Here are only three mothers trying to protect their children, and the maternal bond of the triad feels almost palpable like magic.

For once, the three of them are trying to do the 'good' thing and it's disappointing that the 'good' thing is a painful one.

"You need to hurry," Snow sighs. "Regina can hold on to the spell for so long."

"I don't...I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be." Snow's eyes cast on Regina's with an intensity she hadn't seen in years. This is the warrior princess that she hates but can't help but admire at this moment. A woman who is trusting her daughter's life with a sworn enemy because it's the safest solution. The _only _one, really.

Regina can't hate a woman with that much maternal altruism. Not now, anyway.

"You will guard my child and grandchild with your life." Snow moves past her daughter to stand before her former step-mother.

Regina, suddenly remembering who she's talking to, squares her shoulders and her jaw as she gazes at the warrior she's resented for so long. There's a hardness to blue-green eyes that reflect old wounds and pastimes; flickering over both good and bad events like an old film. Regina knows she's doing the same.

Yes there's woman left to loathe, to hold accountable for the death of her true love, but not now. Not when other issues hold priority.

"You have my word," she says smoothly, but her eyes give the strength and tenacity of her words.

"And I shall guard yours with the same promise. Since Red and Granny aren't in this crowd, I know they are protecting him somewhere and I'll find him." Snow adds with a terse nod, returning her attention to her daughter.

Regina can't help but wince.

Henry.

There's a small chance that he'll blame her for his biological mother's departure. A chance that she can't make amends with the one thing she holds dear in this life.

Henry...

Blinking back tears she refuses to shed in front of Snow, she watches the former schoolteacher give the blonde a tight bear hug, squeezing hard by the shoulder blades while being mindful of the swollen baby between them.

They finally drift and Emma goes for her mother's hand like her life depends on it. As if she could hold on to this last moment forever.

Snow gives it a squeeze before she smiles and descends into the frozen crowd, quickly breaking and outing stilled flames and anything that could potentially harm her, until she runs down the road, heading for Granny's.

The woman could hold her own, Regina has to admit.

With Snow now no longer seen from this distance, Regina eyes the blonde's back, how her shoulders sag then shake. She's hesitant, but convinces herself to move closer, one step at a time, until her hand graces an arm.

She tries to ignore the heavy flinch as a response.

"I'm sorry," Regina offers, not knowing what to say. What can she say? How can she make this whole ordeal better? Even though Snow can hold her own, she is outnumbered and there is a chance that the town might harm her if she doesn't tell where she and Emma are going. There is nothing that make this day better, or any worse.

It's a while before Emma answers. A few moments that have the brunette on edge, biting her lip. "No you're not."

It surprises how flat the response, especially considering Emma's prior histrionic behavior. The polar opposite of emotions within a few seconds frightens Regina.

"What are you-"

"Save it, Your Majesty!" The hiss is back in Emma's voice as she faces her with the same sharpness.

The wild gaze returns but it doesn't fill with desperation and sadness like it did before. Here, there's anger and...numbness that makes Regina take a step back.

She didn't like that look. She's worn it quite a few times in her life to recognize pain that literally consumes to an entirety- body and soul. Emma's angry, damn angry, but Regina could handle that. It's the the seed of self-loathing that hits her. The look of defeat like...there is nothing to fight for, and that's terrifying.

"You don't give a fuck what happens to my mother, or me, or anyone else for that matter because you're getting what you want. That's all that ever matters to you!"

Regina blinks, Emma's words coming at her with an unexpected force that makes her falter. "I just want my child safe!" Regina growls, hardness covering the momentary weakness like a reflex. "I don't want to be around people who find it morally acceptable to rip away a woman's choice to complete a term of pregnancy. Is that too much to ask? It is too much to ask of me to protect what's mine! I've lost _too _much, sacrificed _everything, _been used for other people's expense and- dammit why can't I be happy?!"

"Because you are a life ruiner, Regina" Emma growls with the same vehemence and frustration. "Your happiness ruins peoples' lives! If it's not in your castle ripping hearts, or cursing a town, it's here, managing to rip my family apart, _again, _all for your selfish, pathetic need for someone to love you.

I'll have your baby but just know one thing- that this will never change who you really are. It didn't work with your first child and it damn sure won't for the next. Now take me wherever the hell you're dragging me to. I'm tired and my feet hurt."

She heads for the car and the slam of the passenger door doesn't even faze Regina. All she could think of Emma's words cutting through her skin, coiling around her heart like a predatory snake, threatening to squeeze at any moment.

_It's just the hormones, _she tries to remind herself, but the bite of those words were anything but impulsive. Emma was loud and angry, but the tone was even and hardly difficult to formulate.

She meant everything she said.

And thinking of it now- thinking of Owen and Kurt Flynn, Snow and Leopold(however deserved), the Woodsmen and his twin children- she believes it too.

Regina _is_ a monster.

* * *

**Okay next chapter I promise is the last of this angst. I just couldn't stop and every time I tried to fluff it up this early it wasn't working. :( But one more chapter and I assure you it'll be the fluff I imagined :) **

**Please review :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Just a filler chapter, of some sorts. Happy Mother's day to all my loving mothers and aunts and grandmothers and even dads who are the moms in their children's lives! I guess Mother's day inspired the first half of the chapter since I feel bad Henry doesn't have his moms right now. :( **

Snow finds herself running through the woods of Storybrooke, the situation all too familiar as her days as a 'fugitive', out on the run from the Queen. Only now it's worse: she's not running _from _Regina but _for _her, and her _daughter, _and it seems from the entire town.

This will be the second time she abandoned her daughter for the sake of the town, and this feels three times worse. Because she knows what she's leaving. She knows the strong, independent woman that is Emma Swan. She knows how much she loves her.

And now she's not here- again.

Snow wants to scream out her frustration, pray to god that this is some silly dream she could wake up to in the arms of her Charming, but all the meets her is her heavy breathing and harsh footsteps.

She's at the end of the grass and hard cement is now under her feet when she spots a man a few foot on the road. White teeth immediately grit and her bow and arrow is in tow when she finds out it's Whale.

He's by a car, its driver's door open and it seems that it won't start.

All she could think of is his cocky attitude by Regina's house, how he was the start of all the chaos that followed. And the fact that he smiles- not his traditional sleazy smirk but an actual smile- when he sees her makes Snow see red.

"Catching up on your archery, I see," he chimes, but his eyes go back to his own apparent problem of his car.

"Are you insane?" She growls, picking up her pace when he goes back to his task.

"Well I can't say I haven't heard that before," he mumbles, voice distant as he slips into his car to fail to start it. "Son of a bitch."

Maybe this is how Regina feels, Snow thinks, when she watches Whale completely ignore her when she's clearing fuming. When a person has done so much yet the ooze indifference. For once she could see the fortune in ripping a heart out.

"So you're going to act like nothing happened!" She forces him to face her, arrow directly at his head.

"Whoa, whoa what are you doing!" He shrieks, nearly falling in the opened door but he grabs on to the side like his life depends on it.

He genuinely looks frightened- eyes round, body visibly shaking.

She falters...something isn't right here. When she looks at her arrow, it brings her back to the mansion when she thrust one into Whale's shoulder when he refused to back down.

Now his arms are obediently high in the air, showing no sign of discomfort or ANY sign of a wound there at all. No blood, no patch; nothing.

What...what the hell happened?

"Why aren't you limping?" She growls, erecting the bow once more, refusing to believe that Whale is innocent.

But the Doctor just stands stock still, waiting for some sort of explanation for her ambush. "Is there..is there a reason why I should be limping? Is that why my car won't start?" He squints as if he's trying to recall past events, seemingly lost in thought, until he falls short with an...unsettled expression.

Snow eyes his face, slowly shaking her head as she slumps her shoulders and return her bow and arrow to her back. Whale looks utterly lost as he shifts his eyes from Snow to his car, then back.

Something definitely isn't right...

She then remembers how Emma's unborn child froze everyone in Storybrooke to protect the three of them. Did it...freeze their memories as well?

Oh god are they re-_cursed_?

"Victor?" Snow asks tentatively, purposely using his real name to see _how_ much he's apparently forgotten.

Thank god he responds with a mumbled "yeah. Snow what's going on- why can't I remember anything?"

Okay so he's not _cursed_, but just...forgotten?

"I am so sorry," she gasps. "I don't know what came over me...I should... I gotta go."

"Snow, wait-" he attempts to grab her wrist but she's already jogging toward the town.

"I'm going to send help for your car trouble," she shouts over her shoulder before she paces full speed for Storybrooke.

She needs to know what's going on.

* * *

Two miles and a sweaty body later, Snow finally drags herself in Granny's, utterly exhausted. It seems most of Storybrooke is there- Michael and his kids in the front, Grumpy and Happy and David in the back, all chatting amongst themselves as if nothing ever happened. She eyes them all with a mixture of confusion, contempt, and disgust, and they all seem to be oblivious to her scrutiny.

Did they really _forget? _

Ruby is behind the counter, smiling and speaking animatedly with Henry beside her until she eyes her friend. "Oh my god, it looks like you've ran a whole marathon!"

Ruby, she thinks with relief, can help her out with this. She wasn't at the mansion, meaning she wasn't...well, whatever the hell happened to everyone else, so she _must _know what's going on.

"When did all these people get here?" Snow asks, flopping onto the stool with a grace that is very much like her daughter.

Ruby wrinkles her nose, whether it's from the question or the obvious sweat fuming from her body, Snow will never know. "I...it's Friday. It's always packed on a Friday."

"But they couldn't have all come here at the same time."

"Well...no. Some come together while other's..." Ruby frowns. "Is everything alright? Why are you panting?"

"I just... this is... I just need to relax."

"I'll-" Ruby starts, but sighs when her grandmother barks for her to get to the crowded table of hungry customers in the corner. "Be right back." They all give a stiff nod when she leaves.

"So what's going on?" Henry asks when the taller woman is not in sight.

"Your moms had to leave town for a while- but they will be back" she quickly corrects as Henry's face falls.

"Is that... Is that why you were shocked by everything. Was the town trying to kill them?"

"No." Snow shakes her head, but judging from the blank expression that looks eerily like his adopted mother, she can see that that is not good enough. "Henry this town was cursed for a long time... and even before that, a lot of us stuck to our old values. And anything different can be..." Threatening, she thinks but goes with "scary. And your moms have magic and you know how wary this town is about that."

"So they think the baby is evil because my mom is evil? Was..." the small scowl that twitches his features is very Emma, and just the sight makes Snow's heart sink. "Do you think it's evil?"

"No," Snow answers with a soft sigh. "But I did have my doubts..."

At that Henry perks, silently asking for a further explanation.

"One thing about magic is that...it's limitless. It keeps expanding."

"Like space?" Henry asks in an incredibly dorky way of a child.

Snow laughs. "Yes, like space. And like space there's cool parts like the sun and planets-"

"And moons," he protests, "don't forget the moon."

"Yes, yes, and that too. But a lot of the universe is a mystery. Black holes and some very scary stuff. And us humans are very curious about the things we don't understand and sometimes we get too close to it and...it consumes us. Because we had no idea of what it was capable of. Magic is kind of like that. Pretty convenient but mysterious and dangerous."

"How would you know that? You don't have any magic." He peers, ever the polite kid but his blunt words still sting. She doesn't know, not really, and after all these years Snow realizes that maybe that was the problem. Her malignant ignorance that shadows her sanctimony. How she literally overlooked the ugliness that built in her former stepmother for years and not even raise a brow in concern. _He ran away._ Regina's curt excuse for the absence of her true love sounds more strained- more hollow to avoid the numbing pain that courses through her just at the thought of him- in her mind now that she's paying attention to it. Now that she's listening.

"Because," Snow smiles that soft, wistful smile she makes only when she thinks of Regina- the real one underneath all the magic and pain and vengeance. The selfless, beautiful woman who saved her so long ago. "I knew what- _who_ your mother was before magic got through her. Before it corrupted her. So when I found out that Emma was pregnant and she was apart of it...I just thought of the worst."

Henry nods softly, taking in his grandmother's words with slightly dawning clarity. He never really thought of his mom before she became the Evil Queen- or her transition to such a horrible creature. That never mattered to him; her prior life seemed irrelevant when she took pleasure in destroying other's. But now he looks at Mary Margaret with something akin to wonder- perhaps even jealousy?- that she was able to experience his mother at her purest. Without the barely repressed anger and iron grip. He then wonders how it would've been if _that_ woman- the young girl Mary Margaret speaks so wistfully of- who raised him and loved him. _That_ girl wouldn't have tried to kill Emma or his grandparents, or Graham. That girl would've embraced his family, not destroy it.

But then again his mother's pain is the reason of his birth among other things. So as envious he is of his grandmother, who is probably the only person who's witnessed Regina before her days as an evil monarch, he'll just deal with the complicated woman he has even more intricate feelings over; a strange, wicked, rocky love that's the polar opposite of his birth mother's. With Emma, their relationship is smooth and easy, like breathing. But with Regina it's all bumpy and tiring and loving and far too confusing for a ten year old to dissect. But it's a love he can't live without. A love that'll destroy him if it's taken from the screwed up dysfunction that is his life.

"So, uh, what made you change your mind?" He clears his throat, trying to lift the haze of discorded feelings out of his mind.

There it is again, Henry muses; that tentative look of happiness mixed with sorrow and regret and passed memories he's unaware of.

"Regina was willing to protect Emma from the dangers of-" she makes a not so inconspicuous glance around the crowded diner, then settles her eyes back to the little boy's. "-well _you know._ And I saw her touch Emma's stomach and... I haven't seen Regina smile like that in a long time." Snow remembers proudly.

"Oh," Henry nods again, this time with a little more force. "It's good to know she's happy, you know. With her happy ending and all."

Snow catches the small frown between his brow and the twitch of the mouth as he looks at the counter. It makes her sigh.

"Henry," Snow coos, placing a palm above his tiny hand on the counter, giving it a slight squeeze. "_You_ are Regina's happy ending. You are the main reason she's trying to redeem herself. Don't think just because you'll have a little brother or sister that she won't love you. Because that's not true, sweetie. If there's anything I know about Regina is that when she loves, she loves hard. And she loves you."

Henry tries his most convincing smile, with a mother like his it's not that hard, but something off nibbles at the back of his mind. It's not like he thinks his mom won't love him; it's just that a new child is a fresh start. A time to correct what she did wrong with him, all the lies and manipulations, to do right by the newcomer. That means their love will be easy, like his with Emma's, and maybe Regina will have the tempting thought to just leave him all behind like his own temptations to just stay with Emma and start a new life. Call it selfish, a little hypocritical, but he only wants Regina to love and fight for him even if he doesn't put in the same effort. Consciously thinking such thoughts makes him feel awful, but he's always had a black and white, subtle-as-a-door like cognition. And it's the truth.

"I mean it's kinda funny if you think about it," Henry smiles weakly, trying to lift the tension. "Very fitting."

Snow understands the gesture and smiles as well. "What is?"

"That they keep sharing kids."

* * *

It bothers her, the silence, but Regina doesn't dare do anything about it. Aside from the anger, there's a lingering fear that if Regina says anything Emma might do some rash and it could hurt the baby. She'll just stay quiet; let Emma's words cut into her just a little deeper. It's completely deserved, and absolutely correct. This pain will be her price for her future happiness.

Luckily Emma's irritating ringtone cuts the tension, even if it's for a little while.

"Mary Margaret?" she gasps, eyes wide with hope and fear. Regina keeps her eyes on the road.

"_What?" _It comes out in disbelief, and it makes Regina glance at the blonde who has her brow lifted to her forehead. "So they just..._forgot. ... _You can't be serious. They're cursed- _how _cursed? ... Oh, oh okay. That's...good, I suppose. As long as you're safe. Yeah, yeah I'll tell her... Love you too. Bye."

Hanging up the phone, Emma chances a glance at the driver. "Seems like your kid put a spell on the town to make them forget everything that happened today. I wonder where it got that from," she turns to Regina with an impossibly sweet-smile of deception that the former Mayor is notorious for. "Well that apple doesn't fall too far from the tree," she chuckles harshly at her own joke. "Pun intended."

Regina just rolls her eyes and clenches the steering wheel; trying not to let the anger and other emotions she's not ready to deal with come to surface.

This trip to Boston will be a _long _ride.

They settle for the night in some cheap hotel Emma silently nods to, and they both groan when they find out there's only one room left. Judging from Emma's drooping eyes that's nearly identical to Henry's, and her sluggish strides, it's obvious that another trip searching for another hotel doesn't sound appealing for the blonde. And quite frankly, it's been an exhausting day for her, as well, and she'll settle with sleeping on the opposite end of sure-to-be disgusting bed until she can regroup and brainstorm on what's to happen with them in the morning.

"We'll take it," she tells the young man in the lobby, collecting the key.

* * *

Emma closes the bathroom door behind her, letting it slam a little harder than necessary. Maybe it _is _necessary. Maybe she needs to vent this anger out to tell Regina _silence does not equal forgiveness. _How _could _she forgive Regina? How could she forgive the woman who constantly separates her from the one thing she's been searching for her whole life: family.

It's worse this time because Regina didn't mean for it to be like this, Emma actually believes that. But that still doesn't change the result of her being alone, pregnant, and without any family.

_Pregnant. _

Here she is again: angry, isolated, with a surprised pregnancy on top of that. Some things never do change.

She wants to stay angry, has every right to, but she can't get over the vulnerability Regina's shown her these several weeks. The care in brown eyes when she cooks for her, or helps her out of a chair when her back hurts. It was incredibly...human and...nothing of an Evil Queen. That cool mask slipping just a little when they argued in Storybrooke.

_But she's a killer. _

A part of her wants to side with Storybrooke, just deem Regina evil and irredeemable. She's a liar, manipulator, murderer; probably done more crimes than she's known for. It would've been much easier to shut up and become one of those sheep without a mind of her own, but there's so much more to her that it makes Emma's head spin.

She's a selfless mother who sucked up a shit ton of magic _just _because her son asked her to. She's the woman who swallows her pride and nurses the daughter of her sworn enemy to take care of, yet again, _another_ shared child. She has a cynical humor that Emma cannot deny is amusing, and quite charming, when it's not taken literally. And then she thinks of her vision a few weeks ago, of Regina all blissful at a beach. She hadn't thought of it in a while, figures it resulted from her exhaustion, but now that she knows the things that she imagines are in fact real, it makes her wonder _how _that will come to play. And howbeautiful she looked...

"No." Her words bounce off the bathroom with a force that makes her cringe. Regina was, _is, _a bad person, and this child will never soothe the darkness in her heart. It didn't work Henry and it won't work with this mystery kid. Why is she even doing this for her? She doesn't deserve it.

_Because you want this kid..._ a small voice tells her as her eyes flutter to a close. She's grown accustomed to their conjoined heartbeat, the slight shifting of its body within her. She will never punish a child completely ignorant of its parents' quarrels just to one-up Regina. Who is she to curse the high heavens for Regina ruining her life to get back at Snow White, if she did the same thing because the child shared DNA- did it really?- with the Evil Queen. She wouldn't be any different.

"Regina's a bad person," Emma reminds herself, tries to convince herself, opening her eyes to look at her reflection. But even the lines between her brow are more of confusion than in actual anger. As if her mind isn't hazy enough with magical hormones, she thinks of their night together pressed against the wall- grunting and swearing and moaning. Hands and nails and lips everywhere.

It makes the blonde shiver.

There's so many layers to that damned woman it's frustrating, but who's Emma to deny that she appreciates some diversity and mystery? She appreciates that there's more to peel from; more ugliness and beauty to admire.

And as if on cue, her mind conjures up the Evil Queen, decked in leather corsets and jewels presented in Henry's book, accentuating tanned curves as she struts around her castle in all her sinful glory.

_Way to go Swan; you're attracted to woman you kinda-but-not-really hate. _

She's no longer angry with Regina; she's just bitter. Bitter that her very existence is a constant reminder of Emma's childhood of abandonment and pain and suffering. This will probably never leave, subside with time maybe, but her resentment of being the short end of Regina's revenge will be the core of her.

But there's no time to harbor over feelings that'll surely destroy her.

They have a child to raise.

And she's tired as hell.

* * *

Magic comes with a price, they always say, but this sort of pain didn't feel like the fantastical moment Regina begrudgingly waited for. This didn't seem like the result from a life of abusing magic and power. This seems so trivial, so modern, so natural that bile rises in her throat. She wants her unborn child safe, and that caused the uncertainty of another mother daughter relationship. Any mother, a good mother, would do what she's doing, no matter what world. So why does she feel horrible? Why isn't she casting Emma's irritation and harsh words as trivial petulance and immaturity?

Because, once again, her happiness comes at the expense of others. Once again, happiness is guile to others' pain.

And this time she cares. This time it matters.

Why had it been like that? Why does she have to fight for scrapes of happiness, that inevitably conclude to despair, while others are immersed with it without trying? Why did she have to kill her father, nearly psychologically destroy her son, and curse a whole town for a chance at freedom? Why did the people she loved either die or, in her mother and even Henry's case, want nothing to do with her?

"It's not fair," she whispers to herself, closing her eyes to fight back tears. She holds back most, but a few trail and trickle down her cheeks, flush with emotion.

It's not fair that she lets Emma's words get to her; not fair that those words hold strength and weight.

_Maybe you're not meant to be happy! _

Maybe she's right. Maybe her ultimate redemption and retribution for her sins were to live a life of suffering.

But then she casts a glance at the sleeping, pregnant woman perched on the cheap hotel bed, and she knows that's impossible because she already loves her child; will do anything to protect it. You can't help the ones you love, whether it's romantic, platonic, or familial; it's affection that she can't let go. It's a surge of pride, loyalty, and joy that she hadn't felt since she held Henry for the first time.

Thinking of him makes her frown; a mixed expression of sorrow, regret, and determination. It'll be different this time, she thinks to herself. These were her same thoughts few weeks before Henry came home for the first time- that she'll be good mother and nothing like the one she had. And it was like that, before that book made wide, innocent eyes into dark coals of mistrust with a hint of fear. Before the lies and teetering paranoia of a secret being exposed.

Before Emma.

It _has _to be different.

And it will be, she whispers to herself with determination she hasn't felt since her curse and practiced world fell apart. She'll make this right, and the first step is making amends with the woman she's hurt the most.

The brunette sighs, wiping away tears with shaky hands, as she pads toward the center of the room, sitting against the edge of the bed, careful not to put too much of her weight against it.

She doesn't know how to do this sort of thing- apologizing- and how could she when she didn't have any experience to guide her? Mother's excuse of any damage of what she's done was all for _her _benefit, how it all stemmed from love. The rational side of her knows it isn't true, that her mother is a power-hungry sadist who cares for nothing but climbing the social tower. But, like Emma so angrily reminded her, she has a sick desperation for love and she'll grasp whatever she was offered no matter how detrimental, or diluted.

But she has to try; this is her last hope.

"Ms... Emma." It comes out shaky and uncertain, and her lack of eloquence makes her groan. For someone who spent three decades giving half-ass speeches to a town of people she hated, this is really difficult to conjure.

Maybe it's best if Emma stays asleep. If she is nervous now, she can't imagine having large, expecting eyes scrutinizing her every move.

"I know you hate me and quite frankly I'm not fond of you taking my son." Yes there's still bitterness to spew, rooted hatred that a baby can't loosen, but this isn't about that. This is about forgiving, not forgetting- no, she could never let that anger fully dissipate; in fact she doesn't remember how to function without rage- and looking past this grudge so they can focus on the child growing in Emma as they speak. It's about swallowing her pride and putting herself out there, so their shared bitterness won't affect the baby.

Regina, herself, knows what stress can...

She shakes her head, refusing to think of the past, clenching away sudden tears. With a shaky breath, she continues, "but I understand. You wanted to protect him, as do I...but you wanted to protect him from...me. I wasn't...I didn't mean to... I just wanted him to love me... for someone to."

She knows that's why Emma stayed in town, but actually voicing out that this aloof, ex-con stayed in her town to protect Henry, a complete stranger, from his own mother makes her heart clench. It shouldn't be like that. A child shouldn't fear the caregiver, but that damned book made it the case and Emma, always the _Savior, _swooped in and became mommy-of-the-year to him.

"Things got out of hand...even before you were born. And...because of that you had to live a life void of love and security and...and I am sorry for that."

A low groan slips from beneath her, making Regina stiff as a board on the edge of the bed. She holds her breath, praying Emma is asleep; praying that she could get through this apology when in slumber so she could perfect it to being presented while awake.

Fortunately the odds are in her favor when the light snoring resumes.

A sigh of relief calms the brunette.

"I know those words are meaningless," she goes in a whisper, lower than before, "and they can't change the past, but that's what I am. Sorry."

She looks down and finds her fingers fumbling with one another, sometimes caressing and occasionally weaving together, and it reminds her of when she use to scold Henry for doing such a childish act.

_Because he was a child. _A sweet, wide eye child she made into an jaded, old soul.

"I am also sorry that I put this responsibility on you. I know finding your family is a lot to take in, but a child... I would switch places if I could, but..."

_No more living in the past. _

"I'm sorry." She takes a breath of finality. There. She's said her piece, and she'll formulate that into her typical eloquence in the morning when Emma's awake.

She attempts to stand but something around her waist keeps her in place. An...arm. _Emma's _arm; nothing forceful, but purposed and aware.

She's _up. _

The arm begins to squeeze along with Emma stirring and shifting until she is sitting upright, arm still placed; jagged knees and slightly swollen abdomen grazing against Regina's lower back and bottom. It must look strangely intimate, but the stiffened bodies give away the distance and animosity between them.

If Regina closes her eyes she could pretend that she's not here, that she's back in Storybrooke with a loving Henry. But that deluded moment of hope shatters when the blonde speaks, low and throaty with sleep, "You just want to happy."

It's not a question, or an accusation, or even an insult like before, but a genuine statement. And Regina responds with a steady "Yes." It's obvious that Emma heard everything so there's not point bringing that up.

"All of this, the curse, the...everything," the hand on her thigh lifts for a moment to wave in the air for emphasis, "because you were...you just wanted to be happy?"

Hearing it like that makes her sound pathetic and whiny, and maybe that's what she is: a foolish, naive, idiotic, petulant girl. Here she thinks her whole life is a life of manipulation, betrayal, injustice, and anguish, but it's so much more than that. It's clingy and desperate resulting from a stunt in emotional support- something that should be tangible. She repeats herself, this time croakier, throat holding back a sob, "Yes..."

The hand on her thigh moves, slowly, as if it's an unconscious thought, and it makes her stiffen. Personal space and boundaries have never been granted to her, but it doesn't make it any easier or uncomfortable after all these years. Emma must notice the tense and she stops, but keeps her hand there.

"You've been hurt. You've been hurt a lot."

Emma's voice is void of the pity or condescension her mother usually possesses, leaving the tone with nothing but understanding and clarity, yet it still shakes the brunette in her bones. Makes her feel utterly raw and naked and small. Her eyes are still straight ahead, looking at the pollution ghosting the black sky of Boston, but she can feel green eyes on her- sharp and wise and...caring.

She can't respond this time. It's too much, so she only nods.

Emma sighs, warm breath caressing the nape of her neck. "Well, _shit _Regina." It's said in more of resignation than actual annoyance, but it still makes her flinch. "I've been hurt too but you don't see me..."

She sighs again, Regina supposes to curb the anger teetering in her, and her hand resumes its light caressing.

"I suppose with magic at your disposal I can see-"

"That doesn't excuse what I've done," she bites back. No, this is not what this conversation is about- condoning. This is about accepting and moving on, and she can't do that if her crimes are tossed to the side.

"Oh, I _know _what you've done, and I am _not _condoning them," Emma presses. "You've done horrible things to people, and caused a lot of pain. But..." her voice softens, almost reluctantly, "so have I-"

"Ms. Swan I assure you nothing you've done has ever-" She faces her for the first time, frowning.

"I wasn't comparing. I'm saying... we've all done shitty things to people...ripping people off for personal gain."

"You haven't _killed _anyone." The frown between Regina's eyes deepen. Where is Emma going with this? Surely Emma the Savior, a _Charming, _couldn't _possibly _be trying to..._empathize. _

"I'm saying that I've done my own share of bad things, so I am in no place to tell someone not to be happy. And...that's shitty. I'm sorry-"

Regina knows Emma is referring to their argument in Storybrooke and a part of her is thrilled to hear an apology, but she knows it's not needed nor justified. "Seeing that most of the... 'shitty' things I've done have mostly affected you, you have every-"

"Will you stop!" Emma suddenly growls, completely removing herself from the former Mayor with a slight hiss.

"Stop what_? _Owning up to the things I've done?" Regina barks out, crossing her arms, just as angry. "For Gods sake I can never win with your self-righteous family! I get a lengthy sanctimonious speech from your mother that I have no regrets and that it is so _easy,_" she spits the word like barbwire, throwing her arms in the air "to get over the pain and betrayal and _violations _of my life if I just _be good. _So when I finally give into that deluded, ignorant thought you get irritated or skeptical.

Please tell me, Ms. Swan, why can't I do that? Why can't I be good? It doesn't fit the cutout of the serial-killing sociopath your family deemed me as?"

"Well you didn't do much to prove them wrong," Emma grits through clenched teeth.

Regina laughs at that, dark and rich and humorless. "I suppose not."

"God dammit, Regina, I'm trying!"

"Trying to _what_? _Fix_ me? Because I can assure you, Ms. Swan, you wouldn't be the first to try and fail."

"If you would just shut up you would see that I'm trying to figure you out!" The blonde is panting slightly from the elevated bantering. "I'm trying to get to know the real you."

"I believe my true identity was revealed the moment you broke my curse."

"After you nearly killed my son," she snaps.

Regina's eyes darken and full lips pull behind her teeth in a dangerous sneer, but her jaw quivers, just slightly, at the memory. That's still a sensitive subject to her, to know that she would've been the reason her son would've never woken up ever again. Just another notch to the list of people she's hurt to preserve her love.

Emma's eyes are just as dark, no longer bleary from sleep, but they relax after a long sigh. "I know of what my parents tell me of you, and that book, but not the real you."

"And what if what they speak of _is _the real me?"

A sad smile blooms the blonde's face, one that forms of such ease that for some reason it breaks Regina a little. "Broken people don't show who they are. They show what others want to see. What's safe. That's what makes them broken. They are either unable to show their true self, or they are terrified and ashamed _of _it."

Regina purses her lips, somewhat refusing to concede. "And why is it so important to know the 'real me?'"

"Because, Regina, it is. There's no questioning over motherhood this time-"

"Henry is my so-"

Her voice raises, "Henry is my son t..." Emma chuckles, but it's empty and tiring and strained. "Do you see what I mean? We're doing it again. This back and forth. You throw it in my face that I gave him up, and I unfriendly reminder you that you're a murderer who hurt him. We blatantly throw around our worst qualities and ignore the best to justify our right to him. Do you know the kinds of people who do that? _Divorced_ people. We're divorced without even being together! And that needs to _stop_.

I brought Henry here, but you raised him. Both done separately. But now..._we're_ bringing our child into this world, and _we're_ gonna raise it, _together_. You're not going anywhere and I...I'm not either. And I won't have a child surrounded by parents who are at each other's throats."

"I would never do that," Regina says, breaking her stunned silence with weak defiance and denial.

"Yeah, 'cause we did such a _fine_ job hiding our distaste for each other in front of Henry."

Emma's words creep into her like unwanted skin, and she desperately wants to rip and tear until she's free and back to her familiarity of the untouchable Madame Mayor. But this irritating, impulsive, uncultured delinquent is deceptively cunning, and absolutely right.

She's always right, Regina thinks solemnly. She knows that Regina's need for love goes past pathetic and desperate. She knows Regina is broken and fragile and hides behind many facets of herself so people can't notice the truth.

And then she knows that all Regina wants is for people to see that she could change and that's she worth the love and affection of her son.

And she knows Regina loves children and has so much unconditional love to give and unable to exude that, at least healthily.

Emma Swan, daughter of Snow White, the Savior that ruined everything she worked hard for, knows that much about her- was able to swallow her justifiable anger to see all of that.

She doesn't know how to feel about that, but it's not as disgusting as she thinks it should be. It's definitely overwhelming and draining, leaving her a little helpless and unbelievably small, but not contemptuous.

"So what do we do?" Regina whispers, as if speaking any louder would reveal the insecurities swarming through her mind.

After a beat of a steady stare, Emma shrugs. "We learn."

It comes out so smooth and confident like the White Knight Henry so carelessly yet admirably titles the blonde that it makes her hiss with underlying jealousy and anger. "I hate that about you."

Emma seems utterly surprised, as if she really thinks her pretty words are suppose to heal months of mutual hatred, jealousy, and anger. It's if she really is surprised that some 180 didn't occur, and for the first time Regina seems the sanctimony of Snow White shining through her.

That fuels Regina's rage.

"I hate that you think you could shrug every issue that waltz in your life and think that same solution- if I could call such an immature defense mechanism such- can apply to mine. I hate that you came here in your hideous red jacket, took my son, and ruined everything I sacrificed for my whole life in a matter of months! I hate that I need to grovel to get a smile from Henry and someone could so much as mention your name and he's utterly joyful! I hate that my decade of raising and feeding and loving Henry is immediately trumped by your biological card." Her face burns of hot tears and flushed cheeks, but her anger is her only unit of getting this out before she completely breaks. It's all she's ever known.

"And most of all, I hate that you save me. I hate that you know my problems. If there are Gods up there," she makes a quick nod to the air "having the Savior, the daughter of the woman who ruined my life, the woman who took any shot at happiness for me because of her selfish need for a mother, see me as a person... as a mother... someone who could understand my pain, who _wants_ to understand," a sobs rips from her throat as she blindly wipes away tears, "well, I could say the word karma doesn't give this feeling justice.

But most of all, the twisted part of it I suppose," she laughs, a sound so high and frightening it makes the blonde wince, "you're the reason I have joy in this world. You're the reason why I have Henry. You're the one carrying my child. The woman I should hate the most, the woman I _want_ to hate, is the source of everything I hold dear. How about that. You're the reason I have everything and nothing at the same time. Wow."

She takes a shuddering breath, looking down at the blonde who sits on the edge of the bed with an inscrutable expression. The tears gloss the anger in green eyes, magnifies them, but her cheeks and lips are eerily calm. It reminds her of the look when they last saw Snow back in Storybrooke.

When she told her that Regina didn't deserve happiness. Who knows what the blonde will say now.

What she doesn't expect is a smile to break free; it's definitely not light or carefree, but something unexpected all in the same.

"You think you got dibs on having mixed feelings for a bitch you should hate then you're wrong, lady."

Regina lifts a brow, but keeps her jaw clenched. This is obviously Emma's turn to vent about her inner demons and yeah it will hurt, but that's what they need. Maybe if their hatred is voiced and understood, it could manifest a semi normal existence between the two. That those aching insecurities won't be as pressuring, as painful and weak, if the other is aware of them. Maybe they can raise a child without arguing.

Maybe.

"You're the reason why I had no parents- why I had to starve and survive!" She cuts herself off, puffing her cheeks out as if to restrain her anger. To keep that last shield of indifference they both know is a facade. "I hated them. I hated them so much because I went through my whole life thinking they didn't want me and that for some reason my brain couldn't fathom, I wasn't worthy to them.

But then I find out after twenty eight years that they _did_ want me, that _you're_ the reason of our separation. And then I find out you're not some ice bitch Mayor but an Evil Queen who cursed an entire town.

You're a murderer, Regina, and I hate you for that. You tried to fucking poison me!" Her voice raises at that but she does the same process of taking a deep breath to calm down.

Some things she just can't get over, Regina supposed.

"But you adopted my son. You gave him the things I never could; answered the questions I've had for so many years. I've always wondered if he had a great life and a mom who could cook and clean and have it all. Everything I'm not," she shakes her head. "Somehow in your care he didn't grow up to be a charismatic serial killer. Somehow you managed to raise a kind, brave, sweet kid. I hate that you did that too." Her face hardens, mouth twists in a snarl confused of confusion and anger.

"I hate that the woman who made it her business to destroy my family is the reason my kid is great. I hate that you could do that. It's obvious that the Evil Queen didn't raise him. A woman like that would influence him into evil, and all you've done was shelter that from him. Someone as horrible as you made my kid great!" Her attempt at sounding hard and painful goes moot when she's struggling to get up from the side of the bed.

Regina is there in seconds though, done almost subconsciously, one hand cuffing an elbow while the other is on the small of her back with almost clinical fashion. Argument or not, she will not lose her baby over something so small.

"Then you do that," Emma whispers, looking down at her arm.

For once Regina is confused. Emma's anger is expected, even justified but her... tentativeness is a bit confusing and overwhelming.

"Then you remind me that there's a person under there. That there's a person who saved me and my mom, someone you hate, just because your son asked you. And now," she makes a smile not quite reaching her eyes, but the attempt is there. "you're doing everything for our daughter...our maybe daughter."

For some reason Emma is convinced that their child is a boy, while Regina is pinning on a girl. She's almost certain she's not wrong.

"So yeah you're right. I hate that you don't fit the Evil Queen cut out everyone deemed for you. I hate that there's more to you, that there's _good_ in you. I hate that I could see something in someone who makes it her business to hurt people I care about. You make...you make it really hard to hate you." She stops speaking, but her eyes seem cautious almost nervous to meet her own.

Regina doesn't understand why. She's heard possibly all curses known to man, Emma calling her most of them, and the sudden shyness is foreign. Intriguing...even cute.

She realizes then that her hands are still in position; one on the elbow while the other placed on her lower back. They're painfully close, uncomfortable green on expectant brown, yet neither have made the attempt to move.

The mutual and quite comforting anger dims into the silence. Even with the direct eye contact, they both seem to be in different worlds.

"And then," Emma whispers almost reluctantly, as if the thought of showing anything other than self-righteous heroism will kill her.

And maybe it will; it wouldn't be the first time Regina uses someone's weakness to suck them dry for her own benefit.

She takes a small step back, the bed stopping her from going any further, as if she needs to steel herself to speak. "Then on top of that, you're beautiful. Because having mixed feelings of a killer wasn't complicated enough, I have to be attracted to one too!"

The words may seem nice, but Regina knows Emma means it as an insult; yet another twisted fate her horrible life thrust upon her.

"So," Regina mumbles, not exactly knowing what to say, "What do we do?"

She puffs her cheeks. "There's a lot to be angry about- for the _both_ of us, but if we give in we won't be able to focus on what's important."

"The baby," Regina answers softly.

Emma nods. "It's been a long day. We should, uh, get some shut eye and think about what we're going to do tomorrow. It's good to know that Mary Margaret is safe but... I don't want to take that chance and going back to Storybrooke."

She turns around carefully climbing in bed when Regina clicks her teeth in disapproval. "I always sleep on the right, Ms. Swan."

"What a coincidence." She fluffs her pillow, sinking deeper into the cheap sheets. "So do I."

She thinks about arguing, she is a queen and no one denies the queen, but exhaustion yawns through her and she's realized that these up and coming months will be tiring in itself, so it's best to pick her battles.

Besides, she muses as she begrudgingly climbs into bed, Emma will surely do something stupid enough to argue about in the morning.

Moments later she's asleep, a small smile blooming just at the thought.


	6. Interlude

**Hi guys! So this chapter is mainly a flashback of Emma and Regina's time together, so obviously this story is bumped to Rated M..which I'm sure you're fine with lol. And if you're not, you could skip the italics and jump to the end of the chapter. I figured there will be three parts of the story. The first part was coming to terms with the pregnancy and coming to a truce between our two ladies. The second half(the chapter after this interlude) will be taking care of said pregnancy and other...issues that will rise. And the third will be overcoming said issues and boom, there you have it! :D **

_"You did this," Emma growls, practically kicking Regina's door down to get through it._

_Regina shouldn't have opened the door with that indifferent smirk of superiority. Maybe Emma wouldn't have to practically smash her face in to get her attention. She didn't do that, of course— unfortunately she is still Henry's mother— but throwing her up against the wall beside the opened door exerts enough force to get her point across._

_"Well, good evening to you too, Sheriff." Even with the awareness of her secret and the vulnerability of her failure while pinned to the wall utterly helpless, Regina still manages to look down at Emma like a bug._

_Emma was fuming, absolutely seething at the thought of her life right now. It been a lie, all of it, or in Henry's case, the truth. Logic and some semblance of order that is her world is all fucked up by the clouds of magic and fairytale characters and Evil Queens._

_An Evil Queen that is responsible for all of this._

_She did it all— the separation of her birth parents, her own life of abandonment and family that was nothing but temporary— and all without the care of the world. Did Regina know this whole time—who she was? Her heritage, anything? She remembered Henry said in the beginning that his mother didn't know about the 'Savior' and they could use that as their advantage, but Regina may be many things— a cold, heartless, murdering bitch—but never dumb. She had to have connected the dots._

_Meaning this punishment was suited especially for her._

_"You think this is fucking funny?" she yells. "You get your kicks off ripping families apart?!"_

_Regina rolls her eyes, looking everywhere but the blonde as if this conversation is a trivial and boring one. "You cannot help your lineage, Miss. Swan. You just so happened to be the offspring of my enemy and you got the short-end of my wrath. It happens."_

_Emma thinks she might be as red as her jacket judging from the heat blotting her cheeks. "That's all you have to say?"_

_"What is there to say?" Regina looks then, and she oddly seems genuinely puzzled. Emma falters, only for a moment, but then remember who she is and what she did and tightened against the white blouse until her knuckles mirror the hue. "I cannot change the past, and trust me if I could this would not be it, dear."_

_It should sound snide, in fact Emma could bet her life Regina wants it to be, but instead it comes out so low and incredibly sad. That somehow makes Emma shift, but again she growls, hoping her moment of weakness hasn't been revealed. It irritates the fuck out of her that her heart constricts at the far-off expression Regina has, even though she's staring right at her. It seems like she's in another world, caught in the vines of her despair and pain and suffering._

_Well good, Emma thinks. Regina's caused so much of it; karma can't even begin to give a little._

_"You're the reason why I was an orphan—tossed aside of the highway like the morning trash!" Yes, good. Anger. Yeah, anger; she could do that. She didn't need to feel anything other than rage and vengeance toward the woman before her; anything else is too complicated and detrimental to even think about. "For twenty-eight years I grew up thinking my parents didn't want me, and it was somehow my fault that I ended up this way. But it was you, Madame Mayor, you who ruined my life—"_

_"I may have put your parents in a…pressing predicament, but let's not forget I did not tell them to put you in the wardrobe, nor did I tell anyone else in this world to treat you cruelly. Everyone makes their own decisions and I won't be held culpable for all the wrongdoings in your life."_

_"Are you hearing yourself, lady?!" she bunches up more of the fabric, so tight that the brunette flinches at the pressure. "You are not even sorry? You're going to explain yourself, why you went through decades to kill my mother!"_

_"No. It's none of your business. Like I've said repeatedly since you so rudely barged into my home and proceeded to manhandle me, I cannot change the past. Apologizing to you won't bring back your childhood, and as irritating as your presence has been in my life, I know you."_

_"You don't know a damn thing about me."_

_"I know more than you think," she shrugs. "You like honesty—"_

_"And the bitch who's been lying to her kid for ten years is gonna be the poster girl for honesty?"_

_She catches the jump of an olive cheek, and watches dark eyes narrow, practically black with barely restrained fury. It makes Emma smirk, faintly satisfied she got into the Mayor's skin when that's all she's been doing to her since they've first met. But all good things come to an end, and Regina washes that moment of anger to replace it with smooth indifference._

_"Be that as it may, Sheriff, you hate being lied to. Because it ends up in the same result of being left alone. That's why you constantly run so you don't have to deal with the aftermath of picking up the pieces. If you don't get close, you could care less if someone lies to you. But when you get to know them," Regina curls the end of blonde hair, smirking grimly as she gives it a little tug._

_Emma clenches her jaw, refusing to give Regina the satisfaction of watching the tanned digit dance in her hair with rapt attention._

_"—things get…complicated. So why lie to you and say words that are meaningless?"_

_She snorts. "If you're saying that you're not lying to me because you think I care about your opinion, then you're more of a basket case than I thought, lady."_

_If Regina is offended by the insult, she doesn't show it. In fact, she chuckles, the sound low and deep but somehow laced with something higher…like curiosity and amusement. Well that would be insane, seeing that this woman can't hold anything in her heart but anger and vengeance. "Why are you really here, Miss Swan? Everyone has their silly happy endings," the words are barbed with scorn, "and you've met your parents. You have family, and yet you're here, pinning me to a wall. Why?"_

_Like fire she pushes away; Regina winces as her head collides with the wall. At first she was here to kick some ass, or demand some questions, or…shit something, and, like Regina said, she has so much to be sinking herself into this. She shakes her head, trying hard to think of something to reply to, but her head is filled with new parents that were once friends and a kid on her doorstep, and dwarves and witches and shit it's just too—_

_"I'm here because you need to pay for what you've done," she grits._

_Good. Yeah, that's true. This town needs justice and she's here to arrest her._

_Only…she was so angry storming out of her house that she didn't bring her badge or gun._

_Great._

_"Oh, so you're here to kill me?" It's said with this disturbing tranquility, like they're discussing politics over breakfast, that it makes Emma's breath hitch. No one, not even someone as cold as Regina, should be that passive about their own death._

_"I'm not a killer like you."_

_"Hmph. So…you come here at one in the morning, throw me up against a wall to not kill me for…? Well, if that is all you came here for you can see yourself out, Sheriff."_

_She doesn't know why that gets to her, that little smirk that slips beneath the walls she's built up, and seeing that Regina has said and done worse, this shouldn't be a big deal. But it is. It feels like being chewed up and spit out on the highway or another foster family, and wow fuck Regina for making her feel._

_So she does what she usually does when it becomes too much. When parents and kids and fairytale characters are too much pressure. She can't bear to see that self-indulgent smirk of regality, or the way her breasts strain in the white shirt Emma spent wrinkling up._

_She crosses back into the Mayor's space with a lunge, fingers gripping into brown hair that's sinfully soft. There's nothing soft about this woman, though; she's all bite and venom and everything in kids' nightmares. She's horrible and cold and manipulative._

_But she kisses with an urgency that only an innocent woman can. She spills the emotions that don't fit a woman of committing murder and manipulations and ripped families, but a young teenager that craves the touch of tongue, heat and pressure._

_It's making Emma's head spin and the anger rises as does her arousal. She wants this woman raw and panting and helpless. She needs some normalcy; this is Emma. The Emma that doesn't let stoic Mayors fuck her over, who's great in bed, and everything that isn't the cluster fuck that was this year._

_Strong hands pull at the expensive fabric that Emma wrinkled, tugging until shiny buttons clatter on the floor. Regina merely grunts, a short guttural, utterly undignified sound for a Queen, and tilts her head, giving the blonde access to a smooth, tanned neck that is too bare for Emma's liking. She wants to mark her, mar her with the sins Emma is forced to live in, the responsibility that has been thrust upon her before she was even born because of the wrath of the woman moaning beneath her. So she nips not so gently against the tendons, her pulse point thumping at the attention its given._

_Regina meets her lips again, fumbling with Emma's thick belt with an eagerness that Emma would scoff at had she not been hiking up the Mayor's skirt with the same urgency. A draft of the wind coming from the slightly ajar front door hits the sliver of pale skin that's not covered by a tank top, goosebumps rising in its wake._

_It's something about the clash of their attires- Regina's shirt long forgotten on the floor, chest heaving in a lacy bra, dark hair mused and lips swollen while Emma is fully clothed and relatively put together beside her open jeans and discarded jacket- that does something to the Sheriff. It seems that she's slowly stripping layers of the Mayor away, but the metaphorical sense is what makes her legs clench together to calm the heat between them. Something about having this woman who could kill with a straight face, panting and naked while she's dressed soothes a deep insecurity for lacking control._

_Her palm cups a firm breasts; a nipple already ripening against the thin fabric, and Regina's so desperate and hissing and groaning it's nearly pathetic. But you can't mock a woman who could terrorize an entire realm with just a devious smirk of lips she's already kissed, or by a hand that's clutching on her arms and hips._

_How could a woman that powerful be so utterly small? Because that's what Regina is after she kicks her heels off. Small. Like a damn Yorkie._

_But then again, Emma wants Regina small. She wants this woman small and docile, and out of her element. A part of Emma sees this as her punishment; a woman who is organized to the point of compulsive, be littered with her clothes and sins? Sounds fucking fabulous. But then it's the darker part of Emma, that broken patch her parents can't mend thirty years too late, needs this. That side of her that wants to punish the woman who wants to 'change' indefinitely, to sink her teeth in and tear her apart until there's nothing left but a lifeless shell of a great body. To have her know what it feels like to be unloved and used like some doll, just to be tossed aside for the next best thing._

_She grips the back of a strong thigh, coiling it around her waist, and pins her further into the wall for leverage while lewdly slipping her free hand up the rumbled skirt._

_When her fingers catch damp fabric , Regina groans, tilting her head back while strands of brown hair catch the edge of her swollen, glossed lips. It makes Emma smirk, and now she's glad she's not in a mirror to catch her reflection. She just might terrify herself with the darkness that gleams in her eyes. The excitement of reducing this tyrant into a mantra of her name in whimpers._

_"Can't say I know what turns you on, Your Majesty," she smirks. "Me about ready to fuck you, or me roughin' you up a bit?"_

_A blush creeps up on the Mayor, Emma perhaps striking a nerve, but she holds her ground. Well…as much as a half-dressed woman hiked up against wall can be. "I could you ask the same question, Sheriff."_

_Emma clenches her jaw; a sordid mistake by the way Regina smiles— that wide, wicked gleam glittering in dark eyes._

_"Hmm. For someone keen on reminding me on how evil—" her breath hitches at the sharp bite against her collarbone "—I am, you seem to take fond of touching me. It seems you **like **me hurt—"_

_"I'd liked to see more than that," Emma hisses. And it's true; this woman is the main source of a lifetime of pain, and event after event only followed because of the primary; leading back to a battle that was never hers._

_But that couldn't stop Emma from touching the brunette and digging into skin too soft for a woman this damaged and bitter. Her nails claw the back of a toned thigh in her hand, while the other proceeds to rub material that's too thin to be appropriate for anything other than visual effect. She wonders briefly if Regina planned all this, to get her so riled up just to fuck her into oblivion, but then they both know no one wants to see her face unless they want to rip it off. Seduction is not exactly on Regina's menu when she has to worry about her own well being._

_"Oh, I'm sure that's true," Regina replies honestly, allowing the blonde access to her jaw and neck. "But then again you could always punch me in the face—"_

_"Don't tempt me."_

_"Hmm, perhaps you're right. You're not one to wield from **temptation**." It's said like a curse— a clear taunt and innuendo of what's happening as they spoke. Regina arches her back and Emma knows it's to remind her who **really **is in charge, who really is losing control and their temper right now. Regina may be writhing and panting and half naked, but Emma is the hot-head without a grasp of the realities around her. The woman who doesn't know what to do now that she's found everything she's been searching for her whole life._

_Emma growls, finally slipping two fingers beneath silk fabric into warm heat. She needs this. Needs that soft whimper, the delusion of superiority to get through the fuck-fest of this day. She needs Regina to shut the fuck up._

_"Oh..." Yes, yes, that's a sound Emma likes to hear. The sigh of submission, the groan of defeat. When Regina's moaning, she's not talking. And that means she can't get into Emma's head, slither in and nip at every praying insecurity until it's blistering, or find that darkness they both are so familiar with and nurture it to surface. There will be none of that; Emma has a family now and she cannot afford to self-destruct and lose them all over again._

_But then again, she's actually fucking the Evil Queen, so that explains a lot about her mental state._

_The hand on Regina's thigh— Regina keeps it locked in its place, so the hold is no longer needed— hikes to her hip, along her quivering stomach, briefly cupping a bare breast that mysteriously slipped out of its bra, past a flaming hot neck, until it latches on the wall beside brown hair, gaining leverage to drive her free hand and hip into the woman beneath her._

_She's so hot and wet and wanton that Emma hates herself for enjoying this, for being weak enough to slip a few appreciative groans of her own. For kissing the Mayor soundly—those lips that spew threats that quickly become causalities— and humping rather shamelessly against the thigh nestled between her legs._

_Even at a time like this, where Regina is groaning at the fingers corkscrewing in her, Emma can't help but think of what her mother would say if she found out. The confusion, betrayal, and disgust for her little girl touching—**pleasuring**, a woman that spent her adult life trying to destroy her. If Mary Margaret ever found out—which she surely will **not**; some secrets should be taken to the grave—this would possibly be the most painful thing that's ever happened to her; even the sacrifice of her opportunity of motherhood. It seems like Regina will always win, no matter what the turns of events may differ. Yes the curse is broken, but so is Emma. Yes, the town gets their happy endings and Regina's alone, but what's there for her? Nothing. Even with family and friends by proxy, Emma is still as empty and confused as she was as a child, wondering what she did to deserve this life of abandonment._

_So she closes her eyes and fucks her harder; pretending that this is any given day and any given stranger. And it almost works when she feels just warm heat and fingers gripping her hair and high whimpers and wetness coating her palm, but who is Regina to make someone's life easy?_

_"You can't c-close your eyes and wish— **fuck**, there— this one away, Sheriff." Her ragged breath is hot and heavy against Emma's ear— her voice cutting with validity and smugness that makes Emma's blood boil. "The Savior with t-the Evil Queen? Well— " she's cut off by the short, rough thrust Emma makes; all sloppy and uncoordinated and stemmed from anger and shame._

_"This doesn't stop my hatred for you," Emma says, glaring at her, and it's more of a reassurance for herself than an actual insult for the Queen. She even knows Regina sees this judging by the breathy chuckle, so she goes for a more blunt affront. "I'm just fucking an easy whore."_

_It took all the willpower in the world not to groan at the new gush of wetness meeting her fingers. No, she will not entertain the notion of being subdued by Regina. Instead she hides the husk in her voice with a snort, followed by a deep laugh against a tensing jaw._

_"So Her Majesty likes it rough and dirty talk? Such **commoner **traits for royalty."_

_Regina groans, using the ball of her foot to arch herself into the ministrations down below. She looks incredibly young, deceptively so, with a face twisted in pleasure and submission, and damn Emma for wanting to revel and explore a little. Like her way of finding people, she stumbles into trouble with ease._

_"You do this for everyone, Madame Mayor?" she's granted with a deep moan and sharp nails into her shoulder blades, managing to make her wince even with the protection of her tee-shirt. "Let everyone know you get off on violence?"_

_She's thrusting faster, Regina's hips twirling proactively, and from the clenching around her fingers, Emma knows Regina's close._

_"Let everyone know that you like to get fucked against wall, right by your door where anyone who gave a damn might see?" a thought swirls in Emma's mind and it makes her growl at the accuracy. "You'd probably fuck in front of your dead enemy."_

_Regina at least has the decency to look away, but she can't stop the inundating of hips and pants from exertion and arousal._

_"Jesus Christ, you sick fuck! You little dev—"_

_"Who you're f-fucking, Em-ma." The way Regina hooks her arms around Emma's neck may look intimate, but they are anything but. In fact, they are at their worse—and this passes the attempted poisoning stint any day. "Who you're **still **fucking, **Savior**… You're no better than me—"_

_"I don't curse a whole town and send people to kill young girls."_

_"Snow was the age of majority when I …ordered… The Huntsmen," she quips, biting luscious lips to stifle a grunt. "And I wonder… what she'd t-think of her dear daughter…if she ever found—"_

_"You wouldn't dare," Emma warns, and she manages to slow down her thrusts to properly glare menacingly at the sweaty woman pressed against her._

_"Oh please," and had she not roll her eyes, Emma would assume that is a plea to continue. "As…tempting as it is to break your mother's spirits, my dignity comes first—" Emma snorts in interruption, but Regina ignores it "—and this is not a highlighting moment for me, being with the likes of you."_

_"Murdering and framing people are one thing, but being with me makes the banner year?" she guffaws. "You're one fucked up lady, you know that?"_

_Emma has stopped moving all together, but they haven't made any attempt to leave from the bitter embrace. It gives Regina a chance to catch her breath and set aside the release that was teetering to the surface. Being clothed and Regina's body heat makes her feel like the world is closing in on her. Perhaps she should've taken off her clothes, but then she remembers why and doesn't regret it._

_"For someone who keeps insulting my character, you're still here in me, Emma." Her fingers caress the bone of Emma's high cheek, deceptively soft and innocent— basically everything that she's not. Still, though, Emma's eyes flutter and she knows she's in Regina's trap. "You're still here up against this wall, riding my thigh." She makes a notso determined attempt to move, but the ball of Regina's foot is lodged in her spine, nulling any movements. "Even after everything I've ever done, you still desire me. Now what does that make you, Miss Swan? Not exactly ideal from the offspring of the **fairest of them all **and her **Charming**, don't you think?"_

_The feeling of self-loathing and despair lingers between the both of them, and Regina is damn good at manipulation. She knows when to push, and when to relent, and when to keep whipping an emotional wound until it's gushing with past histories and unrestrained anger. And that's what Emma will convince herself when she rethinks why she returns to her thrusts—slow and steady until she's at that same unrelenting pace as before. She'll tell herself this is Regina's fault and that she did some sort of sorcery for this to happen._

_"You w-won't answer that question, I guess," Regina sighs, leaning in and licking the side of her face. It's crude and crass and quite unbecoming, but it fits what they're doing right now. It fits them like a glove and it's disgusting, but fuck, Regina feels good wrapped around her._

_Maybe Regina's right; maybe she should get off her royal high-horse— wow she can actually mean that **literally **now; Jesus fucking Christ, this damn town— and accept that she's enjoying herself and wants to rip off her clothes and grind into those lovely hips until they burn from the friction._

_But acceptance means submission and that's not something Emma can let go just yet. This is all that she has left now that her sanity and any basis of logic are altered._

_A dark nipple peaks out of the lacy cup and Emma distracts herself to latch on it. She swirls the nub in her mouth, biting down with carelessness to Regina's well-being, but judging from the high squeak, she's doing just fine. Figures. Regina manages to get pleasure from everything involving pain._

_Regina's breath returns to that desperation and helplessness and pleas for more, and Emma gives that to her. Now with each thrust, she curls her fingers to brush and scrape and fondle the roof of Regina's heat. She flicks a thumb in lazy motions to a bundle of nerves that Emma purposely ignored this whole not, and bites and laps at the breast aligned with her until Regina is tightening around her fingers and nails are cutting into her shirt, shoulder, and nape of her neck._

_Emma, being physically active her whole life, has impressive stamina and willpower, but something buzzes in her that she's never experienced before. It starts at her fingers, then up her arms and through the webs of veins in her body. It's not painful or something overt, but its subtlety makes her crave for more._

_It's then that she sees Regina's eyes are glossed a lovely green, swirling around her normal brown, and her mouth is open to allow out croaked groans of her release. That feeling intensifies into euphoria and it's so short and surprising and abrupt that she can't stifle the loud moan of "Fuck" and the gush that comes from between her legs._

_This is ridiculous. This is embarrassing—that's never happened to her. (Damn is this what boys really say, Emma wonders.) Regina barely touched her but she feels like she's been fucked for days, and sated with bliss. But God, she feels incredible._

_They remain still in a slight embrace— Regina's head against the wall, while Emma's face is in her sweaty neck, body slumped against the smaller one in an undignified fashion._

_"What…what the hell was that?" she asks, voice grated and strained._

_Regina doesn't answer for long moments, and just when she thinks her question's going to be ignored she replies quietly, "I've never felt anything like that before."_

_Emma looks at her because she's never known Regina to be unsure about anything, especially something involving magic. And Emma knows that's the case seeing that the witch's eyes fucking changed colors when she came. Whatever it was, it didn't hurt, the total opposite really, and she'll shrug that off like she's done everything else this past year._

_If she won't, it'll surely break her._

_After a few moments when the chill from the still-open door hits the exposed parts of their bodies, Regina pats Emma's shoulders and she takes that as a signal to back off._

_"Do see yourself out, Sheriff."_

_The woman is straightening the skirt that is hiked up against her waist and sliding on the shirt that is ripped and useless, but Emma can't help but snort. Of course Regina will try to keep her chin up seconds after she fucked her senseless up a wall. Well this time, she could see the ideal in that because surely this'll never happen again, and they're never going to talk about this again._

_"Whatever," she mumbles, zipping her jeans and picking up her jacket off the floor and heads out as if they ended a bad discussion and not incredible sex._

_The wind hits her skin and she shivers as she wraps her jacket around her arms._

_Had she kept it off, perhaps she would've notice the gold light circling her lower abdomen._

* * *

Emma blinks open her eyes with a jolt, breathing hard as she slowly rises into a sitting position. Even though it's over, she could still feel the dream. No, not dream; _memory, _of what she and Regina had done all those months ago. What started all of this.

She still remembers teeth and tongue and feelings of self-loathing and insecurities. She still remembers the emotional turmoil of that night; the blows that hurt more than any punch could do.

And she still remembers Regina panting and mewling beneath her, and Emma hating herself for it.

"Miss Swan," Regina stirs in bed beside her, slowly sitting up to her level. "Why are you u—is everything alright?" And when Emma looks at the concern etching around her features, even in practical darkness she hears the worry in the voice strained from sleep, she sees Regina for the first time. The woman she slept with is the polar opposite from the one in bed with her right now. The woman in the past wouldn't have placed a reassuring hand on her arm, or ask if she needs water, or if there's any pain. She probably, no Emma's _certain, _would've laughed at it and figured how she could use that faint of weakness for her advantage.

Regina's no softie, though—Emma will _never _make that mistake of underestimating the former Queen again. Even with the rough edges, those shards of ice that could never thaw, Regina regards her with a patience that makes Emma smile uneasily. She should be use to it by now, after a couple months of Regina's clinical care, but just remembering where they've been and where they are now, she just can't help but just _stare _at her.

"Did you see something?" Regina asks, putting her hand down to clasp on her thighs.

Even after yesterday, after their cutting words back in Storybrooke and in this hotel room, Regina regards her with an uncharacteristic kindness that makes Emma's chest tighten. But even redeeming Evil Queens have their limits, and the brunette groans as she slides back into the covers with an exaggerated bounce. Given how tiny the woman is, it looks quite petulant and adorable.

_Adorable. You're calling the Evil Queen adorable. _

"Yeah," she mumbles with a private smile, re-grasping Regina's attention, "I saw something."

"What? Did it frighten you?" she climbs back up to the headboard, throwing her legs under her bottom.

"It's not…" she shakes her head, still lost for words at the fantastical events that's anything but fantasy anymore. "…like a vision or anything. I was just… thinking and realized something."

"Oh?"

"Just…" Even thinking about it makes Emma give her a once-over. "…I'm glad you convinced me to keep it." And as terrifying as this situation is— the being separated from her family, the thought of something happening to her, what's going to come _out _of her— she wouldn't have been represented the many facets of this crazy, homicidal, fragile, beautiful woman that's before her today. Their 'truces' for Henry's sake would be fragile and broken the second one of them feels threatened, and that would fuck the kid up even more.

Regina looks at her, eyes narrowing in suspicion and somehow Emma knows it's not done on purpose. She seems genuinely perplexed at the notion of a compliment or something positive happening in her life without a twist, or a result of despair. That also does an odd twisting of Emma's heart, but that lifts the second a smile blossoms those beautiful lips; when brown eyes shine against the moonlight. She dips her head and…is it _shyness _that Regina is hiding? She doesn't know for sure, but it brings a smile on her own face.

"I'm…quite fond of your decision as well, Miss Swan."

"Emma," she corrects because Jesus Christ they have a kid, one on the fucking way(okay maybe Regina is right and Emma should curb her language), and exposed too much to be going by formalities now.

Regina graciously agrees, mumbling a soft "Em-ma" that's so high that it's teasing, borderline flirting.

It's Emma's turn to hide her face.

"It's late. Perhaps we should try to get some sleep?"

"Yeah," Emma agrees. They still have a lot to sort through. Like we're they're going to stay, and arrangements for this child and doctor appointments and things that makes Emma's head spin at the thought of accomplishing them. But watching Regina coil into bed, curling into sheets with regality only suited for a Queen, Emma knows she'll be okay. She knows Regina will be there every step of the way.

And that…that well, isn't as terrifying as she thought.


End file.
